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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 year

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pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

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summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position.

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake drabble #bellamy x clarke #bellarke #bob morley #bob morley smut #the100edit #clarke griffin #john murphy

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sturniqlo · 5 days

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Let Her Go- C.S

summary: seeing her across the room with someone else makes chris realize he needs to let her go. BLURB

cw: cursing, party setting, mentions of drinking, pinch of ANGST; break up, arguing, toxic!chris, trust issues, mentions of cheating (not actually) manipulation(?)

an: i've been going through some writers block lately, sorry if this is shit :/ | lowercase intended

masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"want another?" nate, chris' friend, nods his head towards his empty red solo cup. "i'm good, you should slow down on em' though." chris says and nate scoffs. "shut up." he cackles and stumbles to the kitchen to refill his cup. tonight, chris and nate had came to one of their friends party. it was a celebration or anything, just a party on a random thursday night.

at first, chris had said no, however, nate didn't take no for an answer and dragged him to this party. nate had realized that chris was staying home a lot more after he had broken up with y/n.

"i'm missing her." is what he would say when nate would go over and see chris laying in bed hugging a random shirt. it was the shirt that y/n would always wear of his and it still smelled like her. "she dumped you for a reason, chris." he always stayed quiet when someone would say that.

y/n was the one who had called it off. and chris realized, after they had broken up, that he was the toxic one in the relationship and she deserved better. whenever he would be out she would send him a text that she would be going out with her friends, she was never asking for permission, never that, just informing him.

however, chris feared the idea that other men would try and get at her and he got jealous just at the idea of it so, he would reply with i was planning on going over in about twenty minutes :(. y/n away fell for it and backed out from the plans with her friends.

she'd always wait... and wait, and chris always showed up 3 or more hours later which would result in an argument. "you said that five hours ago! i could've gone and been back by now! but, no because you always think i'm going to cheat on you or some shit! do you really think that low of me?"

y/n's breaking point was when she had posted a group picture at the mall to her instagram story and when chris saw he was furious when he saw a guys arm across her shoulders. what did he do? he looked at her location and drove there a caused a scene in front of her friends.

"come on, we're leaving!" he spotted y/n standing alone in a store. "chris? what are you doing here?" she said. "i said, we're leaving. i didn't let you come here just so you could be lovey dovey around assholes." he grabbed her arm and tried to walk her out. "what are you saying right now?" her voice caught the attention of her friends. "chris, hey?" one said.

"this is chris? didn't know he was coming today." someone he had never seen before says, he then realizes this is the guy who had his arm around her shoulders. "oscar, not now." y/n said. "yeah, oscar, not now." chris said. "we were just leaving, sorry. you guys can go back to shopping." chris walks out with y/n.

"so, oscar seems nice, did he buy you something today?" y/n ignored him. "hm? did he hold your hand? kiss you? you two seemed happy in the picture." she snapped at last. "take me home, i can't stand being around you right now!" she yelled. during the car ride, chris went on and on. when he dropped her off she finally spoke.

"we're done, chris. i've put up with you for so long, i hate that you don't trust me when i go out, whenever i tell you i'm going out you always tell me that you're coming over and make me wait just so i won't go out. you thought i was just cheating on you, for crying out loud! i can't do this anymore!" she unbuckled herself and got out the car. "oscar is my fucking cousin." she slammed the door behind her and ran inside her house.

chris texted, and called. y/n finally decided to talked to him. chris heard her out and agreed although he didn't fully understand.

until now. months later.

chris spotted her while he was pouring himself some soda into his cup. it's almost as if he felt her presence enter the house. he stared at her as she walked in from the backyard, he smiled to smiles, until he saw her arm extended backwards. she was holding someone's hand. behind her, hands intertwined, was a tall guy he had never seen before.

she had someone new.

as creepy as it sounds, he watched them the entire night. he saw how she smiled when he touched her waist, kissed her forehead and held her hand when he felt like it. she looked happy. she finally got what she deserved. the person she deserved.

y/n's eyes roamed the crowd and met a pair of familiar eyes. they stared at each other until y/n broke into a soft smile. that's when he decided to finally let her go.

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hangup119 · 3 months

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ඞ JOIN GAME?

twenty-two. galvanized steel and eco-friendly wood veneers

warnings: spoilers for jujutsu kaisen (manga only), cringe brain rot 😓

NERVOUS WOULD BE A COMPLETE AND UTTER UNDERSTATEMENT FOR WHAT ANTON LEE CURRENTLY FELT.

After he had made sure that the stream was officially over and that his camera was no longer running, he had made a quick dash towards the nearest mirror in a vain attempt of making sure he didn’t look too much of a try-hard with his outfit and hair. Only after making sure that he didn’t look like either, he gathered the last of his wits (what much was left after playing Resident Evil 4 for two whole hours anyway) and proceeded to make his way down to the lobby to finally meet the ”girl of his dreams,” according to the embarrassing, spur-of-the-moment tweet he had made earlier. He cringed just to even think back on it.

“Where is she?” Anton muttered as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly looking around the relatively empty lobby for any sign of you, much to no avail.

Well, this is it, he thought while attempting to steel his nerves for the umpteenth time. This was the moment all previous chapters have accumulated to—the peak of countless weeks of having known each other online in and out of streaming and private DMs he would sometimes think about during the crack of dawn on a random Tuesday. He figured that there wasn't much to do now since he already hyped himself up while he was cleaning this morning, and recently just now when he was still five floors above. Sure, he probably looked real stupid when he kept repeating affirmations to himself (“your rizz is real, your rizz is real…!”) in front of whoever was monitoring the CCTVs today, but Anton realized that he was far too skittish about your short-notice meet up to truly care about others’ perception of him anymore. Which, in hindsight, was concerning. He wonders if he needs to schedule an appointment at the doctor’s…

“Boo.”

Anton jumped lamely, cursing under his breath before having it immediately taken away when he turned around to face you.

You blinked up at him.

“Woah,” you said, a bit surprised, “you’re so… tall.”

“And you're so… short,” was his genius response.

“What was that?” you asked darkly. Anton gulped nervously, but then you looked at him quizzically. “No, like, seriously, what’d you say? I couldn’t hear you properly; your voice is too soft, man.”

Oh, okay. He almost breathed out a sigh of relief because you didn’t hear that.

“Nothing important,” Anton stammered, hastily ushering you towards the elevator doors without giving you a chance to say anything else. “Let’s just go. You wanna see the fish, right?”

“But I—…” you trailed off, watching him hurriedly press the buttons on the wall. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed out eventually, awkwardly fiddling with the straps of your bag. When the doors finally closed, Anton stood back and glanced at you briefly. It didn’t go unnoticed however, as you quickly returned the look, offering him a small, steady grin.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hi,” he nodded back at you, before tearing his gaze away.

Anton didn’t bother to say anything else, and neither did you, so it was safe to say that the ride towards the seventh floor ended up being a little awkward, what with him trying to discreetly steal glances at you every now and then without you noticing, far too busy finding out what’s so interesting about the elevator ceiling.

By the tenth urge, he realized just how hard it was to resist looking at you.

Truly, incredibly, and scarily concerning.

Now, don’t get it wrong: Anton’s not the kind to just fall for anyone that easily. Sure, he may be young and chronically online and knows too much brain rot-terminology for his own good, but he wasn’t some fourteen-year-old on Discord with a Ken Kaneki profile picture who’d join random servers that would probably die within three months, snag an E-Girlfriend within that time frame before breaking up with her because ‘LDR just won’t work out, babe, it’s not you, it’s me’ or however those situations would go. He was better than that, or so he’d like to think. (Although he was, unfortunately, a twenty-year-old on Discord.)

Point is, Anton wasn’t stupid enough to fall for just anyone he met online—much less someone he met on Roblox Altitorture, for goodness sake! He can entertain the thought of finding them pretty through pictures he’s seen online, yeah, and he can entertain his friend’s teasing remarks about his supposed crush on someone he hasn’t even met, but Anton liked to believe that it never was that serious. He wasn’t that jealous over you sitting all alone inside another guy’s house, looking after another guy’s fish, or planning to spend another guy’s fifty bucks on useless micro-transactions he could buy for you as quick as lightning without you having to lift a finger (and he has!), and he definitely wasn’t that serious when he accidentally blurted out a sentence that could potentially jeopardize the fanbase he had been steadily building up since he was fifteen, right?

And inviting you over to his house under the pretext of taking a look at his fish (who was probably in both Sungchan and Shotaro’s hit list) wasn't that serious.

…Right?

You’re just friends, Anton convinced himself when the two of you exited the elevator and walked towards his door. You’re just friends, Anton repeated inside his head as he typed in his PIN on the keypad. You’re just friends, he reassured when he finally swung the door op—

“God, you’re so rich,” you muttered the moment you entered his condo, and all thoughts of denial Anton had repeating in his mind suddenly came running out the window as he watched you remove your shoes at the front. “You have all this space to yourself?”

“My mom visits sometimes,” he squeaks out pathetically.

You looked back at him, a bemused smile on your face and—oh, who was Anton kidding? You’re way prettier in real life compared to the pictures he saw on Sohee’s Facebook post, and whether that was a good thing for his mental health or not—well, he didn’t want to find out anymore.

Wrongly assuming you’d head straight towards his fish tank, Anton found himself trailing after you as you started loitering by the living room. “Are these your parents?” you asked, signaling towards the multitude of frames on top of the wooden furniture. “You have a brother? He looks just like you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Anton affirmed, moving to point at the photos. “That’s my mom, my dad, and my younger brother. Over there are my grandparents.”

You whistled. “Wow, your mom’s really pretty,” you noted with a laugh, “she looks like she could be famous, or something.”

“Uh, she was an actress, actually.”

Your smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. Anton had to stifle back a snort.

“...For real?” you asked, carefully looking back at the picture and then towards him. He slowly nodded. “What? Don’t tell me your dad’s famous too? Your grandma? Your childhood dog? The mailman who steals your Amazon deliveries?”

His silence practically confirmed it, and you squawked in response. (Though you weren’t too sure about the mailman. The grandma and the dog? Sure, since even his fish was famous.)

“My dad’s a music producer,” Anton elaborated, moving away from you to head towards the corner where his fish, the supposed star of the day, resided at. “He’s over in Korea, though, so I don’t see him as often anymore.”

You followed after him, unsure of where else to go. “Your mom was an actress, and your dad’s some hot-shot music producer… and you decided to become a Let’s Play streamer?” you wondered to yourself, incredulous. Anton looked back at you indignantly, but you merely shrugged back at him. “I’m just saying, dude. You could be, like, I don’t know, a K-pop idol or something with those connections. Oh! You could be in NCT—what do you think of bright, green hair on those luscious locks of yours?”

Anton gave you a scalding side-eye.

“...Nah,” he eventually said with a shake of his head, a wistful grin on his face. “It’s a little late for that.”

You were about to say something else, something probably much more snarky to the absolute nonsense Anton responded to your suggestion with, but your words quickly died down inside your throat the moment a familiar shape of glass appeared in your vision. Anton promptly stepped aside to let you have your moment with his pet, unable to fight off the smile rising on his face as you approached the tank with wide, astonished eyes.

“Stonerland,” you breathed out quite dramatically, finally witnessing the white betta fish swim inside his lonesome tank. “You’re real.”

You inched closer towards the glass, but remained mindful not to touch it per Leehan’s wise teachings. The light from inside reflected onto your eyes, splashes of green and white appearing in them. It would’ve been off putting to anyone else who was observing you, the you who was unblinking as you stared at the oblivious animal, but you didn’t seem to care. You were completely and utterly entranced, lost in your own little world.

“...You’re so pretty,” you murmured, following Stonerland’s every move.

Your gaze slowly moved towards him.

“Right, Anton?” you asked, fully expecting him to be looking at the fish as well.

Instead, you were met with him already staring back at you, like those romance K-Dramas Eunseok always made him watch with their cliché fireworks scenes that always had Anton’s eyes rolling whenever it inevitably came up. They were all just copies of one another anyway—Han River, fireworks, and the main couple having the space all to themselves when it really should have been packed to the brim with other couples because it was South Korea.; he really could have cared less about such things (even if Eunseok swore to him that they were “peak”).

“Yeah,” he breathed out absentmindedly.

And because Anton always disliked watching those scenes, the thought of him doing the same thing, albeit at a different situation but with the same principle regardless, never crossed his mind.

But now, inside his place—the Han River—and watching his fish—the fireworks—with only the two of you beside each other, Anton didn’t even have the chance to roll his eyes because he was too busy staring at you, like some cliché male lead in some cliché romance K-Drama.

“Oh,” you said.

And then Anton blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. “What?” he sputtered out, looking away from you and towards Stonerland, before inevitably bringing his gaze towards you again, only to shy away when you caught him in the act all over again. He coughed out, “What were you saying? Sorry, I was… I was thinking about something else.”

“Like what?” your head tilted to the side.

“Like,” Anton nervously began, licking his lips as he thought of something to respond with only to come up with blanks. “Like, uh—”

His eyes landed on Stonerland.

“—I was just thinking of ways that I could fortify his tank so evil, malicious forces won’t get to him…?” he cringed as the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. “Because I’m low-key scared that if I invite the boys over, Sungchan and Shotaro will find a way to murder my fish when I’m not looking. Or something like that. I don’t know—I’m just getting bad vibes from them, you know? I might just be paranoid, though.”

Anton immediately found himself desperately avoiding your gaze, feeling the tips of his ears turn red at how stupid he must have sounded just now.

“No, I get it,” you said, which catched his attention. “Those two are definitely up to no good, since you practically memorialized the empire they worked so hard to destroy in the form of a fish. A small, helpless fish up against two grown men… yeah, maybe just don’t invite them over.”

Anton looked at you hopefully, only to be immediately let down when you continued.

“To be honest, if Stonerland was your pet fish in Minecraft, I’d probably blow it up when you aren’t looking too. Redstone engineering and all, it’d look like a whole fireworks show,” you added bluntly, watching the tank with blank eyes. After a second, however, you quickly look back at him with an easygoing smile, cheerfully saying, “Good thing Stonerland’s a real fish, right? So cute! Betta fishes are the best…” you sighed wistfully.

You didn’t bother commenting on the look of absolute horror on Anton’s face, too busy cooing at his fish as if you had not just threatened to blow it up in another life.

He looked at Stonerland—poor and unassuming Stonerland, oblivious to the evils surrounding him and his owner. He wasn’t even safe from the girl who kept squealing over him, simply because of his given name. Poor, poor Stonerland indeed. Anton briefly considered changing the unfortunate fish’s name, maybe install some galvanized steel beams around his tank and some eco-friendly wood veneers for extra protection just in the slightest case anyone would dare to think of hurting his precious betta fish, but he was definitely putting up a sign that had Sungchan and Shotaro’s names crossed off on his front door.

He slowly turned to you, meekly saying, “Please don’t hurt him.”

You looked at him, absolutely flabbergasted. “Stonerland’s a guy?”

“Yeah?” Anton’s eyebrows furrowed. “...You didn’t know?”

“What!” you gaped. “But the fins…! It’s so pretty and long!”

“Male betta fishes have longer fins, and they’re much leaner,” Anton explained, pointing at Stonerland’s white, flowy fins. “Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that Leehan guy you’re friends with a fish-expert or whatever?”

You pouted. “Well, he is, but he doesn’t own any bettas… so I don't know if he knows anything about them.”

“Hm, so Leehan doesn’t know shit about bettas, the coolest fish ever. I see.”

He felt pride quickly bubble inside his chest when you looked at him expectantly. “Right, yeah! Bettas are so cool! And you know so much about them; that’s so cool!”

“Nah,” he pretended to be humble, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just did my research.”

“You should buy a black one,” you continued enthusiastically, “so they can swim together! Isn’t that cute?”

Anton deadpanned. “Uh, they’ll probably fight to death if that happens…”

“Oh, so like SatoSugu,” you said blandly.

Yeah, whatever that means, Anton thought.

The both of you stayed there for a little while more, with most of it spent on useless chatter and you taking hundreds of photos of his fish, so much so that Anton worried whether your phone’s storage was about to reach its limit, however you didn’t seem to care. He honestly didn’t know what exactly was so enamoring about the fish—it was just some small living creature that came with flowy fins and a penchant for loneliness, and all it would do is swim and eat and live off of Anton’s paycheck, but he supposed that if you enjoyed looking at it so much, then he was fine with keeping it. Heck, he’d be fine with protecting it against Sungchan and Shotaro, if it meant that it would keep you happy to see it was still alive.

Which is, again, concerning. Anton never meant for any of this to happen—he never meant for him to wake up on a random Friday and decide that he was gonna let you into his house when you were, at the core of this situation, just some girl he had just coincidentally met online—and at a kids’ game of all places.

But between the calls you’ve shared, the jokes, the countless hours you’ve spent together playing games, and the private DMs you’ve shared where no one else could interrupt him teasing subtweets or obsessive ramblings from either shippers or haters, then Anton figured that getting Stonerland was worth all the trouble and money (and Wonbin’s constant whining at the bus) just to see you smiling towards the tank.

…So, yeah, maybe he was jealous of you sitting all alone in another guy’s house, watching another guy’s fish, planning on using the money you earned to purchase useless micro-transactions he could easily buy for you, and maybe accidentally blurting out a sentence that could potentially ruin his career was all the more worth it when you are literally standing right next to him now.

Anton never thought that everything would eventually lead up to this moment, and he might not be extremely smitten with you right now the way those male leads in K-Dramas would be, at least he doesn’t think so, but what he knows is that there was already a tiny voice inside his head constantly saying that, eventually, at a moment when he least expects it, it will happen.

“If you want, I can buy you a black betta fish,” he started, leaning his chin on his palm, “and then we’d have matching fishes. Just like SatoSugu, right?”

You glanced back at him, a little bit shocked. But then your eyes twinkled, and a laugh escaped from your lips. Anton found himself smiling back.

“No way,” you said, “you don’t have to do all that. You already bought me some Robux.”

“It was literally just twenty dolla—”

You cut him off. “Plus, one of them dies anyway," you said grimly, your expression darkening. "Actually, they both die."

That quickly shut him up.

You continued with a snap of your fingers. “You know what, I’ll just tell you their whole lore—no, wait, we should just watch Jujutsu Kaisen instead! Do you have a Netflix account? Let’s binge the first season.”

Seemingly without a choice, Anton promptly handed you the remote to his TV, staring blankly ahead while he followed you towards his couch.

It seemed that it was also safe to say that your online personality translated perfectly into real life. For better or for worse.

previous | masterlist | next

SYNOPSIS. not everyone is good at playing obby’s on roblox, and you’re no exception to this rule: after a particularly nasty encounter with another player on roblox’s altitorture, you log into twitter only to find out that the very same player who publicly dunked on your gaming skills turns out to be anton lee, a well-known streamer who also happens to be a friend of a friend. fed up with his fans bombarding your dms with teasing remarks or jealous musings, you decide to end it once and for all by appearing on his next stream with a promise to get through an obby successfully. however, you realize that the only thing you’ll be successful at is falling for anton lee instead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. wooo first written chapter! what do you guys think so far??? i really like putting the pov on anyone else BUT y/n, it makes her more mysterious HAHA

TAGLIST. (closed) @shoberi @gisellessgf @serafilms @palchokitty @seunghancore @nujeskz @hisrkive e @alwayswook @emohoon @milktea-academia @kyusqult @dolloie @slutforjeno @meowbini @yizhuobberi @fae-renjun @kcharlyy @whoisgwyn @saranghoeforanton @au-ghosttype @gyehyeonist t @dodot04lover @outrologist @papichulomacy @odxrilove @maleegayuh @ilovejungwonandhaechan @dalsosapple @starwonb1n @tojis-luver r @slayhaechan @lakoya @he6rtshaker @rikianton @brachioswrld @woonagi-lemon @ffixtionista @endtostartbreathin @ki3ntot t @bidibaabidiboo @totheseok @astrae4 @hanbinniesmango o @daegale @regrool @sunflowerbebe07 @taroddori @miyawwn @snowyseungs @p-d1ddy

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xzaddyzanakinx · 3 months

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Sixteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, straight up murder, gun/knife violence, drug use GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, all may not apply]

Info: Ghost is too pleased with you over something he really shouldn’t be. You say things, his feelings get hurt. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

The cool, end of summer winds blew over the bushes you crouched behind. The conversation between Ghost and Adam could be heard in choppy bits, mostly Adam’s side of the dialogue. His pained voice and sharp yelp carried loud and clear over to you. As you heard him shouting for his friends, you couldn’t help but pop your head up despite Ghost’s strict instructions to do the opposite. You couldn’t just ignore the possibility that a group of men might be charging at him any moment now. If you could help, even just a little bit, you would. Though it seemed to be an unneccesary fear, scanning the area quickly you noticed that the yard was devoid of any movement and the living room light in the cabin had been turned out. They’d abandoned their friend, no doubt barricading themselves inside the cabin at that very moment. Thinking quickly, you knew they all probably had their phones on them. If they hadn’t already called the cops, they would be calling them soon.

Pulling out your phone, you hid it behind your jacket sleeve, turning the brightness down. Once you’d wriggled around enough to safely switch it on and do some quick googling, you discovered that unfortunately for anyone in the area, the average police response time was about forty five minutes. But, as you looked up the county maps, along with the address to your cabin… you realized it might take them much longer to arrive. The lake sat directly on the county line, the county to the left had a police department fifty seven minutes away. While the one on the right had a department closer, yet inaccessible during certain hours.

A draw bridge along the river rose up and lowered manually, monitored twenty-four hours round the clock, seven days a week. It took five whole minutes to open, five whole minutes to close, and however long it took a large boat to chug along through the gap. If it were you, being tormented by Ghost and a boat was stopping help from getting to you… well, rightfully you’d be livid. Though you found yourself lacking the sympathy you should be experiencing for these boys. Of course they were horrible people, but violence wasn’t usually appealing to you in the least bit. You’d much rather Ghost confiscate their phones and drop them off anonymously at the police department on your way back to the city. Whatever they’ve done, there’s bound to be a shred of evidence on at least one of their cellphones.

You might’ve yelled out to suggest it, but you realized that would be very unwise considering you’d already broken your promise to keep your head down. So you stayed down, your phone now shoved back into your pocket with a timer set to vibrate in thirty minutes. You took a moment to strategize in the event that you needed to get the hell out of dodge at the first sign of flashing lights.

“Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!” Adam’s shrill voice rang out through the moonlit nightscape. Once again, unable to help yourself, you popped your head up, parting the leaves and twigs to peer through. You could barely make out a struggling figure on the ground, the large truck was obstructing most of the view, only allowing you to see beneath the vehicle.

You heard the unmistakable sound of metal singing, a sharp, shrill *schinggg*, followed by a shock-delayed roar of pain. The sounds weren’t quite right, the scream was in its place, but the blade and the squelch were in the wrong spots. You hadn’t heard the blade go in, you were only hearing it come out. You waited for a wet thud, but never heard one. Just rustling of clothes, Ghost’s unintelligible grumbling and footsteps heading away from you. Two sets of footsteps.

He hadn’t hurt him so badly that he couldn’t walk, just enough that he would be lightheaded from the blood loss within the next half hour. Adam stumbled in front of Ghost who directed his jerky, uncoordinated movements by his grip on the back of Adam’s shirt. You lost sight of them when their footsteps changed from soft thuds to louder *clunks*, they must’ve reached the porch.

“Say ‘Hi’ Adam.” Ghost shoved him toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Adam struggle to comprehend his simple order. “Can you fucking knock at least?”

“Shit, I guess.” Adam shook his head and cleared his throat, his arms still ziptied behind his back. He tapped the bottom of the door with his sneaker, kicking just loud enough for those inside to hear. “Hey! Brandon! Zach? Zachary! Zach I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door I’ll deny your membership!”

They could hear hushed, frantic voices behind the door as his frat brothers tried to decide their course of action. Adam was getting impatient, kicking at the door handle forcefully in hopes to break it off and gain entry by force.

“Here, I’ll give it a try buddy.” Ghost said, patting his shoulder before gripping him by the hair and bashing his forehead into the solid redwood door. “It’s rude to leave a guest at the door!” Ghost shouted ‘knocking’ on the door repeatedly with the side of Adam’s head.

“Fuck! Open the fuckin’ door!” Adam breathed in short, shallow inhales as if he might hyperventilate from the stress. His lungs starting to constrict and make his face turn red, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as his breathing became labored.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Ghost asked with a slight laugh, “Breathing in all that frat boy bullshit caught up to you?”

“I-I have asthma.” He wheezed, choosing to save his breath instead of wasting it by feeding into Ghost’s deliberate emotional jab.

“Are you gonna die if you don't get it?” Ghost asked annoyedly, seemingly miffed that he wasn’t able to get a real reaction out of him.

“M-may… maybe.” He coughed, dry and raspy, from deep in his throat. Adam was instinctively trying to reach up to hold his neck, unable to because of the zip ties, realizing he couldn’t only made things worse. Being denied the simple instinctive human reaction caused his panic to flare up into a frenzy, the formerly sure footed, bull headed, asshole was reduced to a scared kid on his knees, choking on air as he fought against his own body to breathe.

“Shit.” Ghost sighed and rapped on the window with his leathered knuckles. “For real guys, get this little shit his inhaler. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust the window.” He yelled, smacking at the glass with his palm.

“You come in first!” A voice from behind the door shouted as the doorknob jiggled loosely, practically hanging by a thread from the beating Adam had given it.

“Sure.” Ghost called out, certainly not planning to follow that demand. He grabbed Adam by his shoulders and lifted him up. Forcing him to stand on his own two feet before shouting for them to open the door again.

The door slowly opened just a crack, a fist holding a long knife used to filet fish lashed out wildly, aiming at everything and nothing at the same time. Ghost was thankful for his quick reflexes, as much as he wanted to ensure these guys didn’t live to see the morning sun, he promised he’d only scare them. So, he pulled Adam back and kicked the wrist connected to the hand holding the knife, causing the wielder to drop it with a hiss of pain. Ghost stomped on the blade, drawing his foot backward to slide it out of the way and out of reach.

“Great job, almost stabbed your buddy here.” He grunted, hefting Adam up and pushing him forward. “Somebody catch him, get him his inhaler.” He said in a firm voice, expecting nothing but compliance.

Adam fell to his knees and a lamp flickered on before illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue, allowing Ghost to see what was waiting for him behind the door. What he saw made him laugh out loud: the couch flipped on its side, the kitchen table pushed against the couch as some kind of make shift ‘fort’ and four guys with pots and pans for weapons.

“Where’s Gordon? Didn’t realize I was walking in to Hell’s Kitchen.” He chuckled, flipping out both his knives, making sure to flick Adam’s blood at his closest frat brother, just for fun.

“What do you want man? Why? His inhaler?” The youngest and most meek of the group, Zachary spoke up, “If you’re gonna kill us why get him his inhaler?”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?” He laughed, wiping the leftover blood on his jeans. “Get the guy his inhaler, please.” He gritted out.

“Alright.” Wyatt nodded, coming out from beneath the kitchen table, he warily made his way to one of the bedrooms and returned quickly with Adam’s rescue inhaler.

“Great job,” Ghost rubbed the two blades together in a crisscross motion before turning one toward Zach. “Get me everyone’s phones… keys too.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded quickly, tossing his own phone on the floor at Ghost’s feet. “Brandon, please.” He breathed out, thrusting out his hand impatiently when his friend didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I’m not giving that psycho my goddamn phone!” He yelled, shoving Zachary away from him.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Ghost growled, stomping over to yank Zachary back to his feet after scooping up his phone from the floor. “Hand it over, like I said, I’m not gonna kill you. Just do what I say and I’ll leave.”

“Th-thanks?” Zachary scrambled back out of Ghosts grip, giving him Wyatts phone before he joined Adam and his other friend on the floor.

“Mhm.” Ghost nodded over his shoulder at him, watching him move to regroup with his friends. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun around, only getting clipped on the shoulder by the cast iron skillet Brandon was holding over his head as if preparing to bring it down on him again.

“Goddamnit!” Ghost yelled, rolling his shoulder and feeling the muscles pinch uncomfortably. Holding both knives in a back handed grip allowed him to swing them closed quickly, holding them in his palms tightly as he wound up to punch Brandon. “Tryin’ to be civil here.” He growled, connecting his fist to brandon’s chin in an upper cut hard enough to make Rocky cry.

His target dropped the skillet and it clamored to the ground in a loud crash, followed by the fool who thought it would be a good idea to hit Ghost with a frying pan. Once Brandon was on his knees, his mouth bloodied and split open, Ghost crouched in front of him and held his hand out. Instead of receiving Brandon's phone, Ghost was kindly gifted a spray of bloody spit over the white of his mask. He breathed in and let out a tired sigh, standing up he brought his knee up quickly and aimed at the same spot, this time getting a bigger, louder reaction from Brandon.

The yowl Brandon let out was ear piercing, with shaking hands he tossed his phone to Ghost and cupped his palm beneath his chin, spitting out globs of blood and something… meaty.

“Yuh mad meh bighth ma tong ov.” He looked up at Ghost, a sniveling mess of red saliva and sobs, holding up his hand where he held the tip of his tongue in his palm.

“I didn’t make you do that. You made a stupid choice and you got a shitty result.” Ghost scoffed, and shouted to Zach, the easiest to deal with out of them all, he was the most impressionable. “Go put this on ice.” He gestured to the hunk of flesh dismissively, groaning in frustration when he heard very loud, very messy, alcohol tainted vomiting coming from the right of him.

“You fuckin’ serious?” He half laughed, half barked. Shaking his head, he snatched the tongue and walked to the kitchen, thankful that all the cabins here had a practically identical floor plan. Muttering to himself he grabbed a clean solo cup and filled it with ice from the fridge, dropping the flesh into the cup and returning to thrust it into Brandons hand.

“Don’t lose it, they can sew that shit back on.” He sighed, gathering up the phones he took a seat in one of the kitchen table chairs, facing the group to keep an eye on them

“Not a single one of you called the cops?” He laughed, scrolling through call history on two phones at once. “Why’s that?”

“W-”

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.” Adam coughed, glaring at Zachary.

“Let the boy speak.” Ghost waved off Adam, taking on the torch of authority over the group for the time being.

“I- well,” Zach swallowed hard, it was clear that the kid was in over his head. This wasn’t his normal friend group, he stuck out like a sore thumb, he was the lackey and being the lackey of the group is just about as well paying as being a doormat. “Adam, I have to. You know I have to.”

“No you don’t!” He lunged toward Zachary, with how they were all acting Ghost was almost positive if he left now they’d all end up killing each other anyway.

“Shut up.” Ghost barked, making a frisbee from one of the cellphones, catching Adam in the outer corner of his already bruised left eye. He hissed in pain, but gave no more complaints.

“Go on.” Ghost nodded to Zach, standing up so he could spin his chair around and straddle it, using the backrest to lean against comfortably as he listened.

“We didn’t rent this cabin.” Zachary spat out quickly, looking pale in the face as Adam smacked him in the back of the head, muttering something about ‘stupid freshies’.

“That’s it?” Ghost laughed, smacking both hands on his knees, rubbing his leather palms against his jeans.

“We broke in, it’s not ours.” Zachary nodded frantically, hoping the quicker he spilled his guts, the quicker the ordeal would be over with. “I’m supposed to be gettin-”

“Inducted into the frat, I know, I heard.” Ghost sighed, standing up and grabbing the back of Zachary’s shirt. “Look, take a good look. Do these idiots seem like the kind of people you want to be spending everyday of your life with for the foreseeable future?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, hands shaking with tremors of anxiety.

“Good choice. Did you drive here?” Ghost asked, getting a nod in response. “Great, it’s your car right?”

“Yes.” Zach nodded again, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with his ‘friends’. Ghost pulled out the phones, letting Zachary take his.

“Now, before you leave I want you to make a quick little post and send a few emails, okay?” Ghost said, pointing to the cellphone screen. “Can I trust you to do that Zach?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He nodded, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve airdropped a bunch of screenshots from their phones. Email them to the Dean and the head of your frat house. Probably should take a good look at them yourself. You should know what you were about to agree to partake in.” Ghost said, kicking his boot straight into Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to tackle him. “That’s enough!”

Ghost shoved him to the ground, wrestling with him until he could get his hands behind his back. Busy with the wad of zipties he was pulling from his pockets, he didn’t notice Adam had recovered enough to join in on the scuffle. Just as he was pulling the ziptie around Wyatts wrists, Adam’s foot landed on top of Ghost, connecting with the back of his neck. A blinding pain rippled through Ghost, so quickly, so intensely that a wave of nausea washed over him like a tsunami. He felt green as he rolled off of Wyatt and out from under Adam who still had his heel on his shoulder. Ghost stood up, stumbling to his feet he forced himself to swallow the bile that crept up his esophagus. While Adam fell to the floor, unable to catch himself due to his restraints.

Ghost saw nothing but crimson red when he caught his balance, flipping out both knives in a backhanded hold, giving him the use of his fists and the convenience of a downward slash of his blade if needed. With one fist in front of his face, his other shot out to pop Adam on the cheek, tilting his fist to drag the cold steel down his ‘assailant’s’ arm. Blooming ichor cropped up through the deep split in the flesh, the heat of the fresh wound warming the blade for its next mark. Adam screamed, his hands and arms wriggling in an attempt to hold his bicep instinctually as he took in the sight of the gushing blood, in his panicked state he did what came to his mind first, trying to squish the meat back together by shrugging his shoulder up, tucking his chin there and pressing his arm against the floor.

“Listen here you little shit.” Ghost said, crouching down over top of the wailing guy beneath him. “I promised I wouldn’t kill any of you, I don’t like breaking promises. But, I’m not above it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Adam yelled, thrashing around, spilling his blood across the floor. Wyatt whimpering near the two of them as he pushed himself away with his feet on the slick floor.

“I would.” Ghost said, standing up and resting his booted foot on Adam’s skull to apply enough pressure to solidify his threat while he turned his attention back to Zachary. “You done?”

“I think so.” He nodded, handing Ghost the phone so he could approve the email and facebook post.

“Perfect, you should major in journalism. They’ll be begging for more on this story, might as well cash out.” Ghost said with a dark, deep laugh. “Nice to meet you Zach, get the fuck out.” Ghost shoved the phone back into his chest along with the handful of car keys.

Zachary took his phone and his set of keys, dropping the rest on the ground. He stood awkardly as though he weren’t positive that Ghost had meant what he said. Scanning the floor he took in the mess of furniture, blood, beer cans, and the quaking forms of the three frat brothers that he would be leaving behind.

“Wait. Where’s Justin?” Zachary asked, spinning around to look about the room, noticing the last member of their group was missing.

“Do you always travel in a pack?” Ghost grumbled, shoving Brandon and Adam together, lacing two more zipties through theirs to connect them. Then he brought Wyatt over, attaching him to the other two in the same manner, “Walk.”

“How do you expect us to walk like this?” Wyatt asked, a scowl on his face while the huddle moved slowly toward the coat closet near the front door.

“Well you’re walkin’ aren’t you?” Ghost growled, opening the door and uncerimoniously pushing them into the closet. He shut the door and grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier, pushing it beneath the closet door handle to wedge it closed.

“Zach!” Ghost yelled, seeing the boy coming out of the kitchen with a large knife. “Seriously? I was starting to like you!”

“Wait!” Zachary screeched, throwing his hands up and dropping the knife to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, i- i was just grabbing it to pop their tires.”

“Huh.” Ghost said, letting his body relax ever so slightly. “Okay well, did you find the other one?”

The yelling, screams and thumping coming from inside the cabin were too much for you to sit back and allow to go on, unchecked. You had decided after the loudest, most pained scream you’d heard so far rang out into the night, that you could no longer obey Ghost’s strict orders. After shoving your small backpack into Ghost’s larger one, you put it on and pulled the straps tighter to fit your smaller frame. Once it was secure enough that it wouldn’t hinder your ability to move swiftly, you made your way to the truck closest to you, hoping to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet despite the ginger steps you took, occasionally glancing toward the window and the front door of the cabin, willing Ghost to come out so you wouldn’t have to get any closer. After passing the truck, you ducked behind the Mazda, using it as cover when you spotted the front door slowly opening.

Peering through the dark glass of the car window you were able to make out a figure heading your way. Immediately retracting your sigh of relief when you noticed the height of the approaching person wasn’t nearly as tall as what you were expecting. As the figure lifted its head, rounding the corner of the house, your worries were confirmed. It wasn’t Ghost.

The weight of the possibility that Ghost really was the one crying out in pain was a pressure on your chest that went far beyond suffocating. It was chest crushing, lung squeezing, and breath halting. Without thinking you spun quickly, the gravel being displaced under your heel made a noise loud enough to have you clapping your hands over your mouth as you panted in short breaths. The soft rustling of the grass from the stranger’s movements stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence blanketing the area. For a moment it was just you and your uncontrolled breathing, the adrenaline saturated blood rushing through you as your heart beat echoed in your ears.

The illusion of being in a bubble of silent safety was shattered in less than a second. A rough hand grabbed you by the handle of your backpack and pulled you up to your feet and against the side of the car.

”So it was you.” The male voice from behind you sneered, squishing your face against the hood of the car. “Where’s the other girl?”

”She’s not here, she left earlier. W-way before I came over here.” You lied, panicking as you swallowed the rest of your anxiety induced word vomit in hopes that he’d believe the shortened version.

“So it’s just you and the sissy-boy, huh?” He prodded, trying to unzip your back pack. “What ya got in here? You stealing shit too?”

”No!” You wormed your way out of one of the straps, turning uncomfortably in your attacker’s firm grasp to pry the bag from his hands. It’s one thing to disobey very clear and concise instructions. It’s a worse thing to get caught because of your disobedience. But it would be more than a metaphorical death sentence for Ghost’s gun to end up in the hands of someone else.

“No, I haven’t stolen anything.” Your voice evening out after being raised an octave from the initial startled ‘no’ from your lips.

”Then what’s in the bag?” He questioned aggressively.

In that moment, you knew you had two choices. You could give it up or have it forcibly taken from you. Though there was a third option tapping at the back of your head, the little devil on your shoulder pulling on your ear and hoping you’d take the chance.

”This.” With your decision made, no matter how poor, you followed through. Pulling out the pistol from the bag, pointing it directly at his chest.

”Whoa! Whoa, easy.” He laughed nervously, putting his hands up and backing off as his eyes darted around, looking for an out.

”The trunk.” Your voice stern in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Open the trunk, get in.”

You gestured to the back of the car with the gun, watching him closely while he moved with slow, calculated steps. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but by the time you noticed, it was too late. The very second he opened the trunk, he tried shoving you inside.

Wether it was an act of the gods or a a quick tug from your personal imp, you’ll never know, but somehow your finger pulled the trigger. A loud blast echoed through the trees around you, the man stumbled back, holding his chest. The recoil of the pistol startled you, though the realization that the gun really had been loaded this whole time, startled you even more.

“Shit.” Ghost’s body flew on autopilot when the crack of the gun reached the cabin. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, but only one stuck out clearly. Only one held his attention. You.

Zach hit the floor, his hands over his head when he registered the sound for what it was, his ‘friends’ shouting in panic behind the closet door. He made not effort to free them nor to move at all, simply frozen in fear as Ghost stepped over him, through the threshold of the front door. Jumping from the porch he hit the ground in a full sprint, only stopping when he caught sight of you, arms out in front of you with the gun still in your hands.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard muffled words as a gentle leather hand peeled the gun from your grasp. His hands searching you for any injuries, satisfied that the only wound you’d sustained was mental, he scooted you away, shoving his arms under the armpits of the corpse before hefting the body from the ground and into the open trunk behind you. After making sure he really was dead, Ghost wiped the blood off on the man’s jeans and carefully guided you to the side of the car, having you sit down.

”You’ve got good aim for such a little doe.” He said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a tiny bit. “Here I was thinkin’ it was deer season.”

”No?” He sighed, patting your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips before he straightened up. “Too soon?”

“Just a little bit.” You said, looking up at him from were you sat.

”Don’t cry, it’s okay.” He said, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about nothin’ okay?”

”Promise?”

“Promise.” He nodded, holding out his pinky finger and waggling it at you until you linked yours with his. “Good girl.” His voice was rough, but it was clear it wasn’t from anger. His body language was relaxed, like he was relieved.

He walked back to the trunk of the car and hummed to himself, a song that triggered a memory for you. It felt like years had passed since you’d heard it, but the beat came to the forefront of your mind with an image in tow. Followed by another, then another, and another. Ghost was humming the lyrics, but your mind was filling in the the missing instrumentals.

While you were busy trying to connect where and when you’d heard that tune, Ghost was busy cutting the shirt off the corpse of the frat boy you’d shot. With the blood soaked fabric out of the way the gaping wound in his flesh was easily visible. He let out a low whistle as he took in the damage from the close range shot. He shook his head with a little laugh and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, subtly giving his half-hard cock a bit more room.

He steeled himself for the next bit of his task, finding the bullet. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms to reposition his sleeves without having to touch them, before he sunk the middle and ring finger of both hands into the wound to pull it apart, lifting one side he dug around and pried open the rip in the muscle.

“Gross.” He whispered, making a gagging sound when he heard the wet tearing of the fascia, feeling the stringy substance snapping under his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice, trying to get your attention without startling you.

“Huh?” You turned your head, only registering you were being spoken to after he snapped his fingers at you.

“Can you get me some gloves from the little side zippy?” He asked, pointing to the backpack now at your feet. “And there’s a thingy of wipes in the big front zippy.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You nodded, moving slowly as you came down from the chemical rush you’d just experienced.

“No, no.” He quickly shook his head when you stood up to walk over to him. “Just set ‘em up there.” He gestured to the back windshield with his elbow, so you did as he asked, recognizing that he was doing something that was most definitely unpleasant to witness.

“Thanks doll.” He nodded, bending down and wiping the blood on his leather gloves onto the ground, dragging his fingers back and forth through the grass.

He stepped on the tip of each glove to pull them off his hands, quickly switching over to the latex gloves to continue the dirty work he shielded you from. You’d been through enough, he already felt immense guilt for what he’d brought you into, there was no need to add insult to injury. Ghost picked up where he left off, prodding around beneath the flesh, he realized he’d have to dig a bit deeper. Separating the tissue from the muscle he forced his flat hand underneath the left pectoral as far as possible.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his middle finger following the rippled meat until he lost the bullet’s path.

“Bad news bears.” He called out to you, popping his head around the side of the trunk. “I need you to look in the toolbox in the back of that truck. Put on some gloves first though.”

“What? Why?” You asked, snapping the latex into place on your fingers after pulling out a pair for yourself.

“See if he’s got some bolt cutters.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If he doesn’t have bolt cutters get me a hammer or crowbar. It’d be sweet if he has a crowbar.”

“A crowbar?” You asked out of curiosity, then thought better of it. “Actually, nevermind.”

You climbed up into the truckbed and lifted the toolbox lid. There were no bolt cutters, only small wire cutters. Two hammers, a plethora of screwdrivers and a random assortment of metal fittings and other equipment. Buried beneath a pile of ratchet straps you found the crowbar.

“Oh hell yeah.” Ghost chuckled, taking it from you as you held it out at a distance.

“Uh, probably should cover your ears.” He said apologetically.

He pulled the corpse from the trunk, letting it thump on the gravel so he could plant his foot firmly on the abdomen, leaning forward with the curved side of the crowbar in his hands, the flat side pressed into the space between his ribs, just beneath the left pec.

Ghost put his weight into the crowbar, sinking it in with one firm, downward shove. It was a difficult process, one that needed a balance between force and delicacy, Ghost was only experienced at one of those attributes. He pushed too hard, going through the connective tissue between the ribs as planned and down into the chest cavity.

A wet, goopy pop met his ears before the blood began to seep out of the punctured viscera hidden in the chest cavity.

“Oh, yum.” He muttered under his breath as he wiggled the crowbar back and forth as he pulled it up out of the soft substance he’d pierced. The noise was similar to the suction of pulling your fingers out of a jar of hair gel.

Ghost left the crowbar sticking up out of the wound to jog over to the stack of firewood lined up against the cabin, grabbing a thickly cut log. Passing it back and forth between his hands as he returned to the body.

Placing the log on the torso as he resumed humming the song from earlier. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder, seeing his bloody hand on the open lid of the trunk for balance as he stepped up onto the end of the crowbar sticking out of the corpse.

Pushing down on it with his body weight, using the firewood as leverage to crack open the rib cage. You felt sick to your stomach when you saw him jump on the crowbar, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of bone breaking under the force of his movements.

Grateful that you couldn’t see what was happening below the car, only having seen Ghost’s upper body’s part in the act. Nauseated, you pulled the pink silk from your face, gagging loudly as you held your stomach and bent over.

“Shit, baby you okay?” Ghost asked, coming around to check on you. He hesitated, knowing his hands were covered in… unsavory substances.

“Get back.” Your hand out behind you to stop him from coming closer. “Just do what you need to do and let me throw up in peace.”

“Oh, princess I’m sorry.” He said softly, unsure of what to do. He was in clean up mode, he’d never had company during this process before. So he did what he knew to be necessary.

He couldn’t have you throwing up and leaving any more evidence of your presence at this crime scene. He grimaced, wiping his latex gloves with a baby wipe from the pack you’d set out. Then unzipped a pocket on his backpack, pulling out a large ziploc bag filled with smaller ones. He dumped the smaller ones out, handing you the bigger, quart sized one.

“If you’re gonna upchuck, make sure it gets in the bag.” He said patting your back, nodding at your grunt of acknowledgment and leaving you to your own devices.

With the rib cage popped open, he wedged his hand beneath it, feeling the squishy, slippery surface of one of his your victim’s lungs. He braved it by clenching his teeth tightly to distract himself from the sound and sensation accompanying his methodical squeezing of the organ.

“Finally.” He sighed in satisfaction when he felt the hard lump of metal buried in the lung. He pinched it to keep the bullet from escaping his hand, not wanting to go through the disgusting process again.

Now with it between his fingers, he was able to dig around with his other fingers to pull the lung out of the chest cavity to access the area with both hands to dislodge the bullet.

“Got it!” He said proudly, dropping it into one of the small ziploc bags.

He dumped the body back into the trunk of the car, not bothering to removed the crowbar or slide the lung back where it belonged. Slamming the trunk shut he cleaned up his leather gloves until they were good as new, switching them out once more.

He disposed of his latex gloves in the same ziploc bag as the bullet, then made his way to you once again. He was pleased to see that you had not thrown up and the color was returning to your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, rubbing your back as he picked up the bag and started walking toward the woods with you.

“Hey what’s that song you-“ You started, thinking if you heard the name of it you might be able to place it with the memory attached.

“Zachary, buddy.” Ghost grumbled, hearing the boys panicked squeal as he emerged from the cabin with his phone flashlight training on the two of you.

“Who is that?” He pointed to you, causing you to turn fully to face him. “Oh my god, you’re that girl.”

Ghost threw up his hands in frustration, dragging one down the side of his mask. “This is my lovely lady.”

“Leaving?” Ghost asked, putting his left hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Y-yeah.” Zach nodded, moving slowly as he walked toward his car which just so happened to be the Mazda.

“We still cool?” Ghost asked, signaling you to stay put while he ‘escorted’ Zach to his vehicle.

“Oh, yeah of course.” Zach said nervously as Ghost opened up the driver side door for him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for all this.” Ghost said, sticking out his hand for a handshake as Zach climbed into the car.

“Right.” He cleared his throat accepting the handshake which gave Ghost the opportunity to pull out his gun from his hoodie pocket, pistol whipping him with his temple as the target.

“I was really hoping this kid wouldn’t get in the way, he was the only decent one out of them all.” Ghost grumbled, throwing the comment over his shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy in front of him.

He grabbed another zip tie, pressing Zachary’s finger tips against the plastic before placing his foot on the gas pedal and pulling the tie to secure it in place.

Ghost reached around, turning the key in the ignition and leaning over Zach to put the car in neutral.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said sternly, watching you to make sure you were listening. “Good. Turn around, stay there please.”

“Thank you baby,” He called over his shoulder as he started to push the car, getting it rolling toward the lake. Once it was close enough he put it in park and shouted out to you again. “Cover your ears!”

Taking Zach’s hand he wrapped his fingers around the grip, positioning his pointer finger on the trigger and putting his other limp hand in the left hand cut out in the steering wheel. He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through the soft flesh on the underside of his chin and straight through his brain, exiting at the top of his skull, lodging in the dented metal roof of the car.

Ghost let the gun fall along with Zach’s hand before throwing the car in drive and pushing down on his knee to put pressure on the gas pedal. Quickly jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut. Stumbling back and falling on his ass as the car sped through the yard and straight into the lake, sinking slowly.

Ghost stood up, dusting himself off before punching the air in a little victory celebration before he had to return to ‘caregiver to shell shocked girlfriend’.

Ghost approached you slowly, a soft hand on your shoulder to alert you to his presence. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a tight hug, squeezing you as he rocked side to side.

“I know this has been a long, really not so great night.” He said softly, resting his chin on your head. “But I need you to tell me something okay, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest, sniffling while you prepared for whatever it was he had in store for you this time.

“Did you touch anything with your bare hands?” He asked, loosening his tight grip around you. “Think hard. I need to know so I can take care of it.”

Your mind raced, you’d touched a lot of things. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind that you might’ve left fingerprints. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if it had just been your original plan. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if you had just listened to Ghost and stayed put.

“Chalk and spray cans.” You said, your eyes wide as if trying to see the various items you’d left evidence behind on. “The truck. The window. That car, in the lake.”

“Did you touch anything inside the car?” He asked, tilting your head back to look at you.

“Not with my hands. I bumped the inside of the trunk with my arm.” You said, crossing your arms to hug yourself while he held you.

“Did you keep your hood up? Touch your hair or anything?” He asked, swatting at your hand when your lifted it to touch your hair.

“No I don’t think so.” You shook your head, hearing him sigh.

“Okay.” He took a breath, “here’s the plan:”

“You, sit your ass right here.” He said, pushing down on your shoulder gently to make you sit. “I’m gonna go get the cans, and wipe down the window. The truck… do you remember where you touched it?”

“The side facing the woods, then I climbed up to get that stuff from the tool box.” You said, holding up your still gloved hands. “But I had on gloves for the toolbox.”

“Perfect. Keep those on.”

He patted your head and went about his tasks, making the clean up quick as he jogged through the yard and picked up the cans he’d tossed in a pile. Taking an alcohol wipe to the window and then using more than a handful as he roughly scrubbed the side of the truck.

Thankfully, it seemed that daddy’s money kept Adam’s car well maintained so he didn’t need to worry about leaving one side of the truck shiny and the other dirty. This trip was probably the only time that truck had ever seen dirt. He used what was left of the chalk spray on that side of the truck just to even it out, throwing everything away in a grocery bag to shove in his backpack.

Everything was in place, everything was handled, everything was fine. It was all fine.

Except for you.

Diary Entry: September 4th early morning

Okay, so here I am, in a goddamn tree, sitting outside your cabin, watching you walk outside every so often to vomit. Your sister and Luke think you’ve got food poisoning or some shit like that.

You’re mad because I made you strip naked before I would let you climb back in your window. You’re mad because I had to bag up your clothes to get rid of. You’re paranoid because there hasn’t been a peep from across the lake.

Luke made you cry because he was woken up by ‘really loud pops’ and he’s ’almost for certain it was a gun, how did you not wake up?’.

I made you cry because I asked if you were okay.

You made yourself cry because you just had to take one last look as we walked away and you of course thought you saw a few bubbles float to the surface of the lake. ‘Oh my god, what if they’re still alive?’

Baby. They’re beyond dead.

Speaking of, can I just say that it was fucking hot as hell to see you standing there with my gun like that? Holy shit.

Then realizing there was a whole person you blew to pieces in front of you? Lord have mercy, Lucifer take my soul.

I wish I could say it to your face. It’s a compliment, but I don’t think you’d take it that way. You’re just so perfect. You’re beautiful even in moments like that, with those fearful eyes and that pretty pout. The little blush creeping up your cheeks and the squeak you made when I took the gun from you.

If you weren’t so distraught I would’ve ravaged you right then and there.

I forget sometimes that you’re just a girl. You’re a girl that I love and that I just wanted to have a good time with. I just wanted you to have a little taste of danger. I didn’t want you to murder someone on accident. I didn’t want to kill Zach.

But they’re both at the bottom of the lake and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m sorry that I seemed insensitive. I really didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand why you’re grieving a person you didn’t know. The guy you killed was a gross, horrible, disgusting waste of space. Zach was okay, he’s just fucking stupid and had to come out and get a look at you.

You understand right? I couldn’t just let him walk off after he recognized you.

Maybe you’ve learned your lesson. When I say something, I mean it. When I tell you to listen, it’s for a reason.

When the little voice in my head says ‘hey that’s probably not a good idea’ I think I’ll start listening. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Diary Entry: September 7th

I’m picking up the vibe that you’re alittle bit upset with me. Like actually me, Anakin. You texted me that you got home but I was expecting you to come over or ask me to come over… since you’ve been gone the whole weekend. But you didn’t.

Are you just that freaked out by the whole thing? I told you it’s not your fault. I don’t know what else to do. People die. Sometimes they just die alittle earlier than they’re meant to. That’s just the way of things.

I was there. Yet I still feel out of the loop.

Cause there’s only so much information I have you know? I have my side of the story. But you’re keeping yours locked up in the Fort Knox of your mind.

You can’t just ignore me because of one little mistake on your part. Yeah, it’s not your fault but also it kind of is. You should’ve listened, but if I get back on that thought train I’ll be riding it for the next few stops.

So instead let’s focus on how I’m going absolutely insane because you won’t even let Ghost inside your apartment. I’ve never been mad at you but I’m so close to being pissed. A door stop? Really? New window latch?

If I didn’t have cameras in your place I’d be worried you found some other guy to do the window latch installation. I was pleasantly surprised (also proud) to see you putting it in all by yourself. If only it wasn’t simultaneously infuriating.

I think I’m going to have to do alittle research to see how I can worm my way inside without actually causing any damage to the door or window. If you’d just leave the apartment for even a few minutes I’d be able to go in through the door. But no, of course I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I totally considered throwing a brick through the glass of your living room window but then it’d be a few days before the super would ever even get around to fixing it, you’d have a gaping hole that anyone could climb in through and I’d be sleep deprived because I’d be sitting out there 24/7.

The only upside to that would be getting to see you. Although I have a feeling you’d be even more upset if I actually did do that… so I won’t, even though it’s very tempting.

Is it completely horrible of me to be driven by ulterior motives as well? Tempting… I’m all worked up and it’s really difficult to settle for my hand after having felt the flower of Eden between your pretty thighs.

I need you. I need you in a bad way. So bad I very briefly let myself wonder if it would be cheating if I bought a fleshlight and taped your picture on it.

Logically, duh I know it’s not cheating but it feels like it.

Maybe I can invent Clone-a-Coochie. You know like the make it yourself, at home dildo? Great business idea if we’re being honest. A perfect replica of your perfect pussy? Bitch, I’d put that on display.

‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Oh this? Yeah, this is my girl’s pussy.’

Seriously, it’s basically the same concept of the Roman and Greeks always putting flaccid dicks on their statues. It’s art.

Art that has more than one purpose! I love shit with more than one use. It’s pretty, it can be fucked, it’s pretty. Look at that. Three whole things.

But even if I did invent it, I’d still have to get into your apartment to make it in the first place and then I wouldn’t even need it anymore because you’d be there.

I’m rambling. This is what happens when I’m nervous. You’ve made me nervous. If I didn’t hate taking pages from notebooks I’d rip this out because I’m a fucking idiot and wrote it in ink so now the inner thoughts that should’ve been kept to myself are in permanent physical form.

Notebook law is that you can’t tear pages from a composition notebook. If there’s one law I’m not gonna break, it’s that one. Cause that’s just disgusting, vile.

Anyway, the B train has been tossing around some thoughts while the A train plowed through the brain car that gets rid of my bad ideas.

B train says I should figure out how to get in your bedroom window. There’s no fire escape under it. You’re on the second floor and there’s no way I’m rappelling down the side of an eight story building.

My need for instant gratification said I could commandeer a fire truck. They have really tall ladders. But then I’d have to worry about hiding a fire truck and that would be practically impossible so honestly, it’s for the best that A train ran that one over.

So I think my best bet is to violate every single safety protocol on ladders and push the dumpster over, stick a ladder on top and close my eyes and hope I make it to your window.

So, if I see you, I’ve succeeded. If I haven’t. Maybe don’t look out your bedroom window.

Ps.

I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t. This would be just so much easier if you’d flap your fucking jaws like you love to do. Just open your mouth and speak.

Date: September 7th

Anakin has called, texted, emailed, knocked, unlocked your door and been sent straight back across the hallway.

Unable to look him in the eye after what you’ve done, you’ve repeatedly ignored and pushed him away. You tell yourself it’s because you’re suspicious of his behavior, because he was spotted by your sister’s husband at that store. That’s why you’re ignoring him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that you killed someone and watched your other (stalker) boyfriend kill another man and stage the scene as a hostage-murder-suicide.

Ghost left those boys in the closet, zip tied together. You’ve watched the news everyday on a continuous loop for the last three days and you’ve not seen a single hint of information regarding the crime. They’ve not been reported missing. They’ve not escaped to your knowledge.

What was reported on however, was that a group of young men affiliated with the Alpha Sigma Psi Fraternity from the upstate university are under suspension pending investigation into their ‘hazing practices and illicit activities’. No names have been released, just ages.

It seems that Ghost really did think of everything.

How? How does he know what to do? How did he perfectly situate a very messy crime scene to fit the narrative of frat hazing gone wrong? How did he find the proof and get it to the university? Is there actual proof?

By the time those boys are found everything will have been taken care of and seen as a closed case before it’s even opened:

A young boy, a recruit, was taken out to the lake for a weekend hazing ritual. The last of his ‘trials’ to join Alpha Sigma Phi. All was well, drinking, drugs, strip pong. A bit of good natured, easy to clean up ‘vandalism’ to get him loosened up before they go into his final initiation phase. Recruit finds out what horrible things his soon to be frat brothers have done and now want him to do, then he attempts to escape, kills in self defense, ties others up and plans to dump the body. Recruit digs around in the corpse to get the bullet to get rid of the evidence, realizes it’s too late for him, feels guilty and kills himself.

The only loose ends are the other guys in the closet. Why not kill them too? And if you’re going to go through all the trouble of taking out the bullet, then shoot yourself… what’s the point of taking it out?

Maybe it just shows the panicked thought pattern of a scared kid who messed up, fell in with the wrong crowd and couldn’t get himself out of it without violence being involved. Maybe it shows that a girl and her masked secret boyfriend tried to have a little fun and ended up committing double murder.

Ghost explained that Zach saw you, would be able to identity you if he went to the police, there was no choice. He had to kill him to protect you.

When you questioned him about his gun and if it could be traced to him he told you it was bought third hand, unregistered and given as a gift. Not to mention he’s never handled it with his bare hands and he filed off the serial numbers after he received it.

Because ‘you never know’. What does that mean? You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to taint your image of him further.

There hasn’t been a linear pattern of thought since that night, thoughts, ideas, monologues, even fully fleshed out daydreams have been overlapping and going straight through each other at an alarming rate. Silence is a distant memory, the constant chatter of your inner voice has become your new normal.

A voice, a real one, called out to you for the umpteenth time today. Pounding on your front door, you didn’t even bother to look through the peephole. You didn’t get up and tell him to fuck off. You even turned the sound off on your phone hours ago, when you checked it you had over sixty messages. Some from Anakin, some from Ghost, Luke and your sister. Even Vigo from the diner. Everyone was concerned about your mysterious absence.

You just had too much going on at once to deal with answering any messages or questions. Too much happening to explain why you’ve called in for the past two days. Brain too full to comprehend the email from your English professor, wondering why you’ve not turned in your online quiz.

How can you be expected to lead your normal life after killing a living being with your own hands?

September 8th, 8:43 pm

Ghost got into position, feet firmly on the ground with both hands flat on the side of the dumpster, thankful it was on wheels as he pushed the heavy container toward your bedroom window. It scraped along the wall, metal on brick making a horrendous racket that he was relieved only lasted a few seconds.

He didn’t need a 20 foot ladder of his own. So naturally he swiped one from a construction site, planning to return if before the sunrise. After he precariously secured and balanced the ladder against the wall, atop the dumpster, he made his way up to your bedroom window.

Luckily this window also had an incredibly old style of latch and you hadn’t replaced it. So, he was able to use his heavy duty magnet to wiggle the curved latch out of the ring that held the window shut. The only difference from your living room window was that this one was smaller, still plenty big enough for him to fit through, and a bit higher off the ground as well.

The awkward position of the ladder, paired with his teeny tiny fear of heights made it the slightest bit terrifying to enter the window feet first. Head first was the only logical solution. He was long enough to hit the floor with his hands and ‘walk’ the rest of himself into your room without harming himself. So he did exactly that.

Bending at the waist he shimmied until his legs were bent at the knee to help him balance, both hands on the ground as he pulled himself forward enough to get away from the wall so that he could drop his feet down one at a time. It was awkward and uncomfortable, however worth it and necessary in his mind.

Once he gained entry and the window was shut and locked, Ghost walked out of your bedroom to hear your shower running. He was tired of waiting. Tired of attempting to give you a bit of space, alittle leeway for your healing and health. He did the only logical thing, pull out a bent paper clip to jimmy pinhole lock of your bathroom door knob.

He cheered for himself internally when he heard the faint *click* signaling he’d succeeded in popping the simple mechanism of the button lock on your side of the door. Carefully and quietly he entered the bathroom, making himself at home on the sink counter to wait until you were finished.

He closed his eyes, listening to the water pelting your soft skin and the sound of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, the product bubbling up to cleanse the day away. The sweet scent was soothing, he’d missed it, now that he was able to smell you, feel your presence again… he was a thousand times calmer. His mind clearing enough to think rationally.

You were living and breathing. You were okay.

You were tangible again. He hadn’t gone a single day without you in such a long time that he felt like an addict experiencing withdrawal during your time away. He was finally getting that first hit that soothed the hurt, steadied the shakes and warmed the ice of his veins.

Spotting your robe and towel sitting nearby, he picked up the robe and held it to his chest to transfer some of his warmth to it. It was a simple gesture, one that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but you were his everything and he’d been deprived of you for too long. He considered that maybe he needed to start doing more of these micro feel-good acts to keep you satisfied with him.

It wasn’t as good as tossing it in the dryer, but the dryer was at the laundromat and he really didn’t want to have to climb up that ladder again. Holding it to his chest was the best he could do and he hoped it was enough. He hoped he was enough.

The water shut off, the following sound was your hands wringing out your hair, the stream of water hitting the shower floor. Pushing back the curtain you looked down at the bath mat as you stepped out, nearly slipping when you lifted your head and saw Ghost sitting quietly. He gave an awkward, tiny wave and crossed his feet at the ankles, clasping his hands in his lap around your robe.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice quiet and distant.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said while you toweled off, holding up your robe for you to slip on.

You almost refused it. He wasn’t meant to be here, he hadn’t told you he was coming and you took precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get inside your home. Apparently, no amount of security could keep him away from you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him the right to treat you to such a simple gesture. Not when he looked at you the way he did. You could see it in your minds eye, the puppy dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip. He was sulking and his posture screamed it. Sighing, you turned around to insert your arms one at a time. The fabric was warm, a plush cotton hug that you didn’t expect but were glad to have.

Before you could turn around Ghost used a soft touch on your shoulder to make you stand still while he searched the drawer on his left for your hairbrush. The wet strands were plastered to the back of your neck beneath your robe, his leather finger separating it to lay it over the fabric and smooth it out just a bit before starting out at the very ends, working his way up slowly.

He was quiet, it was rare that he go so long without speaking. Almost seeming like he was waiting for you to speak first, but no words would come. What was there to say?

Once he finished with your hair he hopped down from the sink countertop, guiding you to sit atop the toilet lid. He kept a hand on you the whole time he set up your hair dryer and sprayed your leave in conditioner, like he was worried you’d vanish if you weren’t beneath his fingers.

The continuous droning flow of air from the hairdryer was warm and soothing. Like a cozy white noise machine. You could’ve fallen asleep with the way he was brushing through your hair as he dried it, the bristles massaging your scalp with every pass. He was taking his time, an occasional pause to separate and section off the next bit of your hair, a quick swipe of his thumb against your neck, leaning down to simulate a kiss to the top of your head with his mask’s cheek.

He didn’t poke and prod you for answers like you expected. He was patient, seemingly content to be in your presence even without the use of conversation. It was surprising when you factored in all the incessant texts and voicemails he’d left you since you arrived back home.

Taking both your hands he escorted you over to the sink, gripping your hips to boost you up onto the counter top.

“Open.” He tapped your cheek, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, scoffing like he was offended when you tried to take it from him.

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, shaking his head at you before carefully cupping your chin and pulling your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb so he could brush your teeth for you.

“Ready?” He asked, rinsing off your toothbrush and passing off the mouthwash to you. Ghost watched as you swished and spit, helping you down from the sink and walking behind you with a hand on the back of your neck.

He picked out your pajamas and helped you into them, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. It was unsettling to see him so gentle and caring. This wasn’t his normal behavior. He had his sweet moments but characteristically he was moody, broody, grumpy and cynical.

“Do you think you can talk to me now sweet girl?” He asked, holding your face in his hands and swiping his thrumbs just beneath your eyes.

“You lied to me.” You said accusingly.

“No? What?” He asked, shaking his head like he was shocked you’d say that.

“You lied. You said you’d never hurt me, you’d never put me in danger.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be so violent. I didn’t know they were that bad of people, I would’ve never-“ His voice was strained, his hands shifting so that one was on your neck, rubbing the column of your throat.

“Not that.” You scowled, “I’m talking about the gun.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I told you I had one, I told you it was in the bag! I even told you to use it if you had to. Where’s the lie?” He asked, getting upset at your accusations.

“It was loaded for real? Like you for real were playing Russian Roulette with my life? You could’ve killed me Ghost!” You smacked his chest angrily, shoving him away when he held out his arm to comfort you.

“No! No it wasn’t loaded I swear.” He said in a panic, standing up and going over to your still-packed bags from your weekend trip. He dug around in the pockets until he pulled out the bullet he’d carved your initials into. You noticed the last initial had been carved over in the shape of a heart.

“See? It never even touched the inside I swear.” He said, handing it to you. He’d saved it for you, tucking it away for you to see when you finally unpacked. You almost felt bad that you’d practically forced him to ruin the gift of the keepsake. An odd keepsake, but still.

“Then… then how do you explain the bullet in there? I never saw you load it.” You asked, confusion coloring your words.

Ghost sighed, trying to take your hand but you pulled it away. He grumbled, forcibly pulling it over by the wrist, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I haven’t and will never knowingly put you in harms way. You are my everything, without you I am nothing.” Ghost leaned in, testing the waters to see if you’d calmed enough for him to put his arms around you.

“I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something I’d done.” You let him wrap you up into his warmth, his large hand cradling your head to his chest. “My purpose in life is to love you, keep you safe and happy. You becoming mortally wounded isn’t included in that list, not even in the fine print. Quite the opposite actually.”

“I swear on my life that it wasn’t ever loaded, you weren’t in any danger.” He whispered, “I loaded it before we went out, just in case. I like to be prepared and I’m so glad I was.” His other hand no stroking your hair. “It was fully loaded, you don’t remember seeing me load in another bullet for Zach did you?”

“No.” You winced at the memory, the sound of the car reving and splashing into the lake replaying in your mind.

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hands fidgeting. “My little doe, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You should’ve said something instead of letting it fester up like this.”

“Ghost, this has been… I don’t know. It’s been overwhelming okay? I can’t think.” Rubbing your face and running a hand through your hair. “I ki- I hurt someone.” You choked out.

“You did so well.” He said softly “I’m very proud of you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t out there with you so you didn’t have to face it alone. I know it was scary.”

“Scary?” You scowled, “it was terrifying!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I- I was worried! You said you’d be quick and it felt like it was taking too long… the yellin’ and noise.” Your voice was shaking and you didn’t even notice it, still speaking passionately. “I was afraid you were hurt! I’m sorry I didn’t stay put like you wanted but I couldn’t just sit there and not know if it was you that I was hearing!”

”There was a whole group of them and your went in there all by yourself like an idiot!” You yelled at him in a way you hadn’t done before. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration, it was fear.

The concept of you being worried for him was foreign to him, he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to have you feel so strongly for him as Ghost. He knew it was definitely not the right time to push you down and let your sweet pussy milk his cock dry. But damn it all, if he wasn’t at least able to kiss you right now he may spontaneously combust.

“You were worried about me?” He asked so quietly his words dropped in and out of the vocoder. Ghost’s hands coming up to your neck, his thumbs under your chin to tilt your head up.

”God, you’re so stupid.” It came out much less angry than intended, more of whisper that trailed off into nothing more than a shallow breath.

There he was again, pouring out emotion without ever showing you his face. His eyes on you were comforting, like an embrace from the first sunny day in spring. The balance between you had always been a fragile thing, but it seemed that just like those sunny spring days encourage growth, something had begun to sprout roots.

There’s always been something so fascinating about flowers, one day they’re nothing more that a seedling, then in a blink of an eye they’ve bloomed and you missed it. The shock of waking up to discover the most beautiful rose carved from nature’s velvet had finally adorned the thorny landscape it had to endure on its path to life.

You’d failed to see something budding up and unfurling, now the bloom was staring into your soul, asking to be picked.

”Hey, I was jus-“ Ghost started, feeling a bit miffed by your words an the quick, almost eerie change in atmosphere.

”I was afraid.” A statement that could fit many situations you’d found yourself in with him, but it was being put to use in a different context now. “I was worried you’d be hurt so bad I couldn’t fix it.”

”Whoa.” Ghost shifted, bringing you closer, “Don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Just bruised up a little.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, the cold, hard plastic used to be somewhat of an uncomfortable feeling on your skin, though now it was one you realized you’d miss if it were taken from you.

“You should see the other guy.” The grin beneath his mask was so wide it could be felt in the way he tilted his head against your neck.

For the first time in days, you laughed. Tiny fairy bells making music that Ghost felt privileged to hear again, he felt honored to be the one to bring you the first bit of happiness, reprieve, after such a horrifying experience for you.

You pulled back, smiling and eyes shining with tears that you’d have no need to shed. Ghost watched, seeing the wheels turning behind your pretty eyes.

“Ghost, I lo-“ Just as you parted your lips to speak, sweet words on the tip of your tongue, the moment was shattered by flashing red on your bedroom TV screen. “Oh my god, they found it.”

Formerly blush pink cheeks quickly drained of color as the news camera panned over a serene lake, the still waters now rippling with movement as the image zoomed in on a car being towed from the depths, the reveal showed something hanging from the drivers side door was followed by a startled yelp of shock from the in-field reporter on the scene. The video paused, the image blurred as the in-office news anchors scrambled to collect themselves. The male cohost held a finger up to his ear, receiving information live from the scene.

”Apologies to our viewers, it seems that Rebecca, along with other press on site have been asked to return behind press lines. Investigators have a sensitive development in the case and are requesting all live newsfeed footage to be halted effective immediately.” The man nervously looked over to his female counterpart, sharing a nod she announced that they’d update as soon as officials allowed it, directing the camera to join the weatherman for the latest forecast.

”Alright, no. You’re not watching this.” GHost stood up, snatching the remote from the bed beside you and shutting the tv off. Going so far as to pop out the batteries and put them in his pocket.

”Ghost, this is what I’ve been waiting to see, you can’t just-“

”Oh yes i can.” He growled, holding up a hand to stop you. “I’ll monitor the news. Give me your phone.” He stuck his hand out in a ‘give it here’ motion as you reluctantly passed it over to him.

”What are you gonna do? Hold my phone hostage?”

“No, I’m going to seize your internet capabilities.” He snorted, pocketing your phone, gingerly pushing your head back and away like an annoyed father who’s had enough of his kid tugging on his shirt sleeve.

”What? What if i need-“

”To google when the Byzantine Empire collapsed?” He crossed his arms and chuckled when you gasped. “I’ve been paying extra close attention to your search history. I’m so glad you filled your time away from me with educational Roman lore rather than researching the est way to die.”

You couldn’t refute his statement, it’s true. You weren’t depressed so much as you were just bored during your self imposed isolation. “I think it’s completely normal to want a few quiet days after the weekend i had.” You huffed.

”Yes, it would be different if your weekend had been a drunken rager,” He said, swatting your hand away from his waist when you decievingly attempted to wrap your arm around him as a front to steal your phone back. “It’s highly concerning and i think i had a right to be worried considering your weekend involved double homocide.”

”I guess that’s fair.” You conceded, knowing you probably had done a real number on him. Everyone else was worried and they had no idea about the reasoning behind your temporary hermit-hood.

“If you desperately need to know anything else regarding Ancient Rome during your no internet time, call me.” He said, crossing his arms.

”Anakin has a phone and a laptop. I bet he’d let me use those.” You countered, raising an eyebrow to see if he’d budge.

”Oh I’m sure he would.” Ghost nodded, leaning back on your dresser with his arms still crossed. “But you aren’t going to ask him are you?”

”So what if i do?” Your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. You didn’t like the tone he was taking with you, it was so accusatory.

”Well I wouldn’t do anything to stop you if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Go ask him if you’d like.” He gestured to the bedroom door flippantly, challenging you.

”No.” You glared, frustrated that he was winning a game you weren’t prepared to play.

“Why not?” He asked, is hand on his masks chin as if he were stroking a beard in thought. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you ignoring the poor boy since you got back would it?”

”N-no.” You snapped back at him.”Even if it was, it’s not y-“

“Tell me your love life is not my buisness one more time.” He grabbed you by the upper arm, turning you to face the door. “And I’ll march my happy as over there and introduce myself.”

”You would’ve done that already if you really wanted to.” You wriggled free from his grip, rubbing your arm.

”Let’s go then.” He said, pushing you toward your bedroom door and opening it with a dramatic flourish just to pick at you a little more.

“Anakin’s not even home, he’s at work.” You lied, at least you thought you were lying.

”You’re right.” Ghost nodded, “My bad, I’ll wait til our schedule lines up.”

”Think he can pencil in… lunch on Wednesday?” He continued, pretending to seriously look at the desk top calendar on your bedroom desk. He missed the way your lips down turned in a frown as he teased you.

”What do you mean I’m right?” You asked, turning him by his shoulder to face you once more.

”Huh?” He he questioned, not having heard your question because he was distracted by the Rubix cube he’d swiped off your desk.

”Stop that, pay attention.” You scowled, taking it from him and rolling you eyes when he clearly seemed annoyed. “You’re worse than a child.”

”No, I’m actually pretty good at solving them, here let me-“

”Oh my god can you please just back track for a second?” You huffed, watching him reach for it again, this time your facial expression stopped him before he got half way.

”Sorry.” He mumbled, pulling out your desk chair to sit in, manspreading and leaning back. “What’s so important?”

”What’d you mean I’m right?” You asked, gesturing to the door. “About Anakin not being home.”

”Well, he’s not home. You said so yourself.” He shrugged, reaching back out for the rubix cube. You left his hand empty, crossing your arms and walking away for a moment.

”Do you know where he is?” You asked, not turning around.

”Um no.” He laughed, standing up and appearaing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Why? You afraid he’s gonna come barging in or something? We could give ‘em a little show.”

”Stop it. I’m serious.” You snapped at him and it took him back for a moment. He slowly released you, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Sorry doll, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said in a hurt tone, wondering what exactly he’d said that had went too far. He’s said much worse things about himself to you and he’d never gotten a reaction like that.

”You… you didn’t.” You sighed, turning around and glancing up at him for a moment before grumbling frustratedly. “I’ve just been thinking too much. I- I don’t know I’m just worried. I haven’t seen him, I don’t know if he’s home or… and I’ve been in my head… it’s been so much and-“

“Sweetheart.” His voice was low and warm as he addressed you, like a soothing balm.

“You know where I am.” He said softly, the weight of his words settled in your chest. You couldn’t put your finger on it, a strange tug pulled at your heart, telling you there was more to be said between those words.

Ghost sighed, returning to his spot behind you, tentatively reaching for you, giving you time to push him away again if you wanted. When you showed no signs of objection he pressed his half-hard cock against your ass, making you lean forward slightly to give himself better access to push up against your clothed cunt. A low grunt escaping him as he felt the warmth between your thighs.

“Feel that?” He asked, breathing raggedly, his hands coming to rest on your stomach before slipping one up under your shirt to settle in the valley of your breasts. “It’s me baby.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His voice soft and sweet, an odd comparison to the obvious upset in his voice just moments before.

“I can fuck it all better.” His gloved hand leaving your stomach in favor of honing in on the bundle of nerves hidden in your panties.

How could he expect anything other than enthusiastic consent when he spoke to you in that tone? The textured leather of his middle finger circling your clit in a feather light touch. His cock twitching, the rumble of the groan trapped in his chest resonated through you as he held you close. This wasn’t the normal experience with Ghost, this didn’t feel like a thrill or the promise of something new.

This felt meaningful and it scared you.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, too afraid to speak your thoughts and feelings into existence. He let out a sigh of relief that you agreed, though internally he was preparing himself to hold back. He’d been so pent up, so needy and now he was here and you were vulnerable in a different way than ever before… he couldn’t in good conscience fuck you like a sex doll. Not even if he really, really wanted to. (He did.)

“Sit, get comfy.” He promoted you, tapping your ass with two fingers to prod you along so that he could turn off the lights and close your curtains. “Uh, I got rid of your pink silk thingy…” he said apologetically, hating that he had to use the rough, black cotton bandana on you again.

You didn’t answer, it was too difficult to separate your inner voice from your flow of spoken dialogue, having the two mixing right now would be disastrous. You just nodded, keeping your lip tucked away behind your teeth.

Ghost gingerly tied on the blindfold so he could remove his gloves and touch you with his bare hands, warm palms and rough fingertips dancing across your flesh as he removed the pajamas he put on you earlier. He was taking his sweet time to put you at ease, but it only served to make you feel… anxiety.

“Can’t see nothing, right doll?” He asked, smoothing his palm over your thigh, rubbing the blunt point of the mask’s nose through your folds, making you jump at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, chewing your cheeks while a wave of nerves washed across your abdomen, feeling him lift up slightly to removed his mask.

Soft lips met yours after feeling his bare chest move up your body, settling his muscular body over yours. His pierced tongue sliding across your lips, clacking your teeth on its descent into your mouth to caress and lick the sweetness inside. His boxers barely containing the warm length pressed firmly against your wet core.

Rough, careful hands brushed over your tender flesh in the most sensual manner possible. It was nearly unbearable, the tingling heat that formed in the pit of your stomach from just the simple act. Ghost rutting his hips against you to give you the friction you so badly desired, his cock twitching when you moaned against his lips.

He hummed lowly, nodding in understanding as he kissed and nipped his way between your thighs to nestle his tongue into your sopping entrance, licking and slurping up the slick mess gathered there. The bridge of his nose bumping against your clit, the pressure deliciously fleeting. Those strong hands of his massaging and kneading your breasts, moving down your sides to your hips, one staying there to hold you in place while the other slowly twisted two fingers into your cunt, pumping them deep before withdrawing almost completely, just to do it all over again.

“Ghost?” You panted, mewling pitifully. He couldn’t answer verbally, not when you were so close, he didn’t want to risk losing his rhythm, he didn’t want to risk you identifying his voice without the mask. So instead he reached up his unoccupied hand to cup your cheek and brush his fingers over your lips.

“S’good.” The soft, slurred praise dripping with something more.

He smiled, wide and smug as he wrapped his lips around your clit and flicked his tongue rapidly, coaxing those warm and fuzzy tendrils to wrap around you just a little tighter before snapping and bringing you the rush of ecstasy he knew you needed. It took an unreasonable amount of self control for him not to poke fun at you for cumming so quickly, having to stifle his snicker in the fat of your thigh.

After you’d released him from the iron grip of your legs, he lifted up, not bothering to wipe his face before he put his mask back on. Forcing your legs back apart despite the quiver in them, he tugged down his boxers and nudged the tip against your clit, sliding it through your folds until he notched it in the dip of your cunt.

“Don’t whine darlin’.” He chuckled, hearing you squeak from the sensitivity as he pushed inside slowly. “I know it’s been a couple days since you’ve had a proper fuckin’. I’ll take care of you.”

With a shaky inhale he plunged into your depths, bottoming out just to circle his hips, making sure you felt him in every corner of your tight cunt. He leaned down, resting his mask’s forehead on your collarbone, moaning loudly at the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around his throbbing length.

Ghost had never fucked you like this before. He’d never been gentle, yet here he was, treating you with the utmost care and only the most tender touches. His calloused thumb finding its way between your bodies to circle and roll your clit just enough to have you bucking up against him.

“Why’re you bein’ so sweet t’me?” You breathed out, eyebrows pinched together and upturned.

“I wanna give you what you need.” He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask into the side of your neck, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper, to angle his cock perfectly.

“Yeah?” You whimpered, arching your back, your breasts pushing up against him.

“Course I do, my little doe.” He cooed, sliding an arm under you to press you even closer to him. “Always.”

He had you so needy, so willing. Wet and panting, a mess of sweet sweat and slick. There wasn’t a thought in your brain other than him. His hands, his cock, his voice, his lips. Ghost was drawing inhuman noises from your kiss bitten lips, each and every breath bringing a new form of praise to his ears.

Ghost had you so fucked out, so blissful and beautifully undone that it crept up your throat and clawed its way out. You’d thought it, over and over and over again, the lines between your inner and outer voice were crossed and was something that could never be taken back.

“Ghost… love you.” Your soft lilt reaching his ears, his movements halting in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” He asked, his voice cracking under the weight of your confession.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ You started, grabbing his wrist to stop his shaking hand from removing your blindfold. “N-no don’t.”

“But-“ He stuttered, unsure how to handle the fiery mix of emotions that rammed through his chest. “I want you to… don’t you want to see?”

“I want to.” You admitted softly, though you shook your head. “But I don’t think I can.” You whispered, feeling the hurt and confusion that filled him up and spilled over.

“I… I don’t-“ He seemed at a loss for words, stuttering over the syllables until it was a jumble.

You heard rustling, felt his weight lifting from the bed and the creak of leather as he put his gloves back on. His socked feet shuffled across the floor so he could retrieve his boots and stomp his feet back inside, not bothering to lace them or even tuck the laces inside. He tossed your clothes at you, the fabric landing on your stomach with a dull *thwack*. You heard something clatter against your nightstand and before you even had time to form a coherent thought, he had slammed your bedroom door shut. Leaving you naked, alone and in the unforgiving darkness behind your blindfold.

September 8th, 9:54 pm

Anakin was overly tired and much too distracted to pay attention to what was going on around him. He wasn’t expecting anything other than the droning of his bedroom fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards in the apartment above his.

Perhaps it was complacency, maybe it was his overconfidence, or it may have been that he was simply distraught; he failed to do his after Ghost routine. Yes the mask was under his dresser. Sure, the backpack and his boots were hiding in the top of his closet just beneath the crocheted monstrosity his mother called a blanket. But his hoodie and jeans were crumpled in the floor, inside out, but it didn’t really matter, after all they were black like rest of his wardrobe.

Even worse? He’d left on his socks. His long black socks with lime green toes and heels.

“What the fuck do you want man? I’m busy.” A male voice grumbled.

“Can you be un-busy? I’m out.”

Anakin heard a sigh, then the low din of the bar in the background as his friend conferred with someone else.

‘April? Can you be me for like 30 minutes?’ Trevor asked. ‘C’mon, it’s Anakin… No, you can’t take it to him. I don’t care! You owe me for yesterday and you know it. You’re sure? Thank you babe, I’ll be back quick I promise.’

“I can be un-busy with time constraints.” Trevor said with a slight laugh. “What are you wanting? I’m walking to my car right now.”

“A quarter.” Anakin’s voice was scratchy, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “What… what else have you got these days, huh Trev?”

“Anakin you better not be telling people that I-“

“No, you idiot I’m asking for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything other than smoke?” Trevor asked, the slightest hint of concern seeping past the curiousness in his tone. Anakin no longer heard the constant background noise of the bar, instead it was the crunch of gravel and the loud slam of a car door.

“I don’t!” Anakin snapped, quickly correcting his harshness. “I- I don’t. I was just curious that’s all.”

“Whatever.” Trevor snorted, starting up his car. “Well I’ll just bring my whole bag in case you’re more than ‘curious’.”

“Alright, yeah that’s… okay.” Anakin nodded to himself and cracked his knuckles, holding his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “When you get here I’m on the right side of the building, I’ll be out on the fire escape.”

Anakin opened up the large window and left it open, the cool air flowing in and clearing his apartment of the nervous energy he’d let build up. He paced the floor, talking to himself under his breath while running both hands through his hair. It was a short drive from the bar to the apartment building, Trevor dusted off his hands and climbed the drop-down ladder until he reached the landing, walking up the stairs to where Anakin sat.

“Damn. You look like shit.” Trevor scoffed, holding out his hand to clasp his with Anakin’s, pulling him up to his feet.

“I know.” Anakin grumbled, climbing in his window and standing with his hands on his hips.

“Huh,” Trevor looked around the living space, a tiny smirk in the corner of his lips. “Didn’t take you for a girly girl.” He snorted, picking up a large Kuromi Squishmallow.

“Fuck off.” Anakin snatched it back and held it in his crossed arms against his chest. “It’s a pillow.”

“Oh, sure.“ Trevor snorted, a big grin on his face while he unzipped and searched through his bag to pull out the correct ziploc bag with the quarter of weed Anakin asked for. “S’okay. I won’t tell.”

”I believe i deserve a discount for possible emotional scarring in the event I come to work tomorrow and your little girlfriend starts laughing at me.” Anakin snatched the baggie from him and laughed.

”I’ll let you have it for free if you let me take your picture with it.” Trevor grinned, pulling out his phone.

”Throw in some K and we’ll call it a deal.” Anakin said with a smirk.

”Done!” Trevor snapped the picture and cackled to himself, tossing his phone in is bag and doling out two pills, dropping them in the ziploc bag of weed Anakin opened.

”Get out before I kick you out.” Anakin snorted, shoving Trevor toward the window, watching him leave before he turned around and hurried to his bedroom. Grabbing his large glass bong from his dresser along with his cigarettes and a lighter, he returned to the fire escape to grind and pack a full bowl of pot. Packing it in with the butt of his lighter before lighting it and taking a long rip. Holding his breath for a moment, letting out a cloud of smoke as he leaned back on the rusted metal steps.

Rolling one of the pills between his forefinger and thumb. Anakin stopped for a moment crossing his feet at the ankles and looking up to the nighttime sky, light pollution in the city was alm,ost always too great to make out many of the dimmer stars. Though after the last few days it seemed luck had finally turned around, even if it was only just the clear sky, it was better than nothing. Hit after hit, Anakin let himnself melt into the warm fuzzy feeling while searching for constellations.

——————————————————————————

You tried to relax, to think rationally. It would do no good for anyone if you went looking for trouble. Life was already complicated enough, it was bubbling up day after day and you didn’t want to be the one who let it boil over. Your little devil was back and it’s whispers were louder than before. Rightfully, you felt you deserved the truth. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, you’d already ruined everything by not keeping your mouth shut.

Ghost did it all the time.

You moved quickly before your confidence ran out, finding him on the fire escape after using the key he’d entrusted you with long ago when you’d given him a key to your apartment. You were startled to see him, Ghost had said he was out and you hadn’t planned on him being home. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, a bit of snooping to put your mind at ease. The space reeked of weed even though he’d closed the window, or at least partially closed it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy relighting the bowl on taking another long rip. It was almost unfair how easily he distracted you. He always looked so pretty in everything he did. The way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he tilted his head back to blow out the smoke, his eyebrows pinching together with the deep inhale from the bong, his hands flexing as he struck the lighter and brought it to life.

He seemed… preoccupied enough. Sneaking around couldn’t be that difficult, could it? He’d never know if you did it quickly enough, you were already here, you may as well try it.

Staying closer to the wall you went to his kitchenette, you’d learned one of the best ways to tell if a man has been cheating is to check the fridge, trash and sink. If there’d been another woman in here, you’d most likely find evidence there and not have to venture any farther. Surprisingly, it seemed Anakin’s normally well kept space was seeing less attention than usual. You’d never seen more than a cup or two in his sink at once, now one whole side of the sink was stacked with dishes. You picked up the glasses, looking at the rims for any sign of lipgloss or lipstick, but found none.

You kept glancing over at the window, making sure Anakin wasn’t gathering his stuff to come back inside. There were no ‘girly’ drinks in his fridge, other than the ones you’d left there and none of them were missing. The wine bottle you’d gotten a week ago was still there, unopened. The trash showed no signs of anything suspicious, not even the dust from the vacuum held a clue to any wrongdoings.

It wasn’t enough. You knew in your gut that there was something going on, regardless of another woman being involved or not. The thought of Anakin cheating had given you plenty of time to reflect on things you would’ve otherwise not given a second glance to.

Another look toward the window proved that Anakin was still busy, engrossed in his own world. Swallowing your guilt with a thick gulp, you made a quick dash across the line of sight from the window. Once you safely reached the samll hallway, you stood between the two doors on either side of you. The courage you’d gathered up to sneak in was wearing out and fast, the bathroom would be the quickest, the bedroom would possibly hold more than you could bare to digest at the moment.

Taking a deep breath you opened the bathroom door and closed the door, standing in the dark for a moment before flipping on the light. After your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you got to work, nothing in the trash. No changes in the shower products, the cabinet hidden behind the mirror had been rerarranged but it seemed like it was only done to clean the shelves. The cabinet below the sink held it’s usual cleaning products, extra shower stuff and towels. Nothing seemed out of place and you were beginning to feel even more guilty than you were origionally. Closing the cabinets you moved on the two drawers along the side closest to the door. The top one opened up just fine, nothing but jewlery for his piercings and his cologne, along with other random bits and bobs.

Pulling out the bottom drawer you found that it stopped halfway, getting jammed by something and preventing you from pulling it all the way out. You wiggled it and shuffled through the items inside the drawer, feeling around to see if you could dislodge whatever it was that prevented it from being opened. You reached the back of the drawer, nothing inside seemed to be the cause, so you decided to reach a bit farther and feel along the back of the drawer and the walls. Thinking that maybe something had fallen from the top drawer and gotten jammed in the tracks for the bottom drawer.

Then, there was a noise. The window. Quietly shutting the drawer you listened, hearing Anakin muttering to himself and his footsteps stopping, the clunk of his bong hitting the coffee table and the sound of him plopping down on the couch. You had no choice but to pretend like you meant to be here, you were here to see him.

While you were busy preparing your ‘i missed you, I’m sorry’ speech, Anakin turned on his tv and Xbox, waiting for it to boot up and load Fallout. He wasn’t ready for bed, he wasn’t willing to be completely alone with his thoughts, so a distraction was in order. He jumped up from the couch and slunk into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and returning to the couch. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he used the beer bottle to crush up one of his pills, sliding his wallet over to him he pulled out his debit card and chopped it finely, lining it up on the edge of the table. He cracked open the beer bottle and took a swig, holding it in his mouth while leaning down to snort half the line. Swallowing the beer to help with the bitterness of the powdered pill, getting ready to start the process over again.

You slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out into the short hallway to see Anakin kneeled beside the couch, his head tilted back sniffing and wiping his nose like it itched. He swallowed, letting out a sigh and a hiccuped laugh, bring the bottle to his lips for another drink.

”Anakin?” You gasped. His head snapped over to the side, bloodshot eyes wide and confused as he stared at you, choking on his beer, coughing and spitting it out accidentally. He stood up slowly, keeping his balance by laying a hand on the couch’s armrest.

“H-hey sweetheart.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, eyes darting around from the embrassment of being caught. Caught doing something you didn’t ever expect to see. “I missed you baby, ‘mere.” His words slightly slurred and his actions not quite right as he beckoned you over.

”I-i had a whole apology speech planned out… i didn’t-“ You stuttered, looking him up and down, “You- are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.” He casually waved your concerns away as if it were silly of you to ask such a thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t reall thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? You’re here now and you’re all i need.”

”No, you can’t just brush this off Anakin.” You said, walking over to him and looking down on the coffee table and what was left of the white powdery substance. “What is that?”

”Baby,” Anakin sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry okay? I just needed something to… to take my mind off stuff.”

”What stuff?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation at his vagueness. “Us stuff?”

”Well, yeah.” He nodded, his jaw set in a hard line while he shifted on his feet. “Where’ve you been? You disappeared on me.” He whispered, reaching out to take your hands in his, though you swiftly shut down his attempt.

”Where have you been?” You turned the attention back where it belonged, on him.

”Home.” He said, gesturing to his living space. “Called Trevor.” He motioned to the coffee table and the various paraphernalia. He tried reaching out for you again and was rejected once more.

”What did i do?” He asked, his face scrunched up in pain from your reluctance to touch him.

”I don’t know. You tell me.” You crossed your arms and stared him down.

”Please, baby just talk to me.” He whined, gently grabbing your shoulders and making you sit down. “You left for your trip and you were fine, you come home and you treat me like I’ve got the plague.”

“What is that stuff?” You pointed to the table angrily.

”Ketamine. Your turn, tell me what’s going on.”

”oh my god, no you can’t just expect me to let that go so easily Anakin!” You huffed spotting the other pill in the ziploc bag. “More? Really?”

”Don’t judge me, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this kinda thing.” He said angrily, pulling it from your hands and fishing out the pill. “Look, I’ll get rid of it.”

He grumbled, standing up and dragging you by the arm along with him toward the bathroom where he held the pill in front of your face, dramatically lowering it down over the toilet and dropping it in.

“There, flush it.” He crossed his arms, nodding toward the plunger. You rolled your eyes and pushed down on it, watching the little white pill disappear. “See? No big deal, it’s not like I’m some kind of pill head.”

“Now. Your turn.” Anakin walked on jelly legs back into the living room, sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, manspreading in his boxers and tshirt.

“I’m… I don’t know I guess I’m mad at you.” ‘I’m mad at myself.’ You sighed, kicking off your shoes and sitting beside him.

“Me? What did I do?” He made a face, pulling up his bottom lip and licking one of the hoops in his snake bites.

“Did you go to a sex shop?” You asked flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“While you were gone? No.” He snorted, wincing when you smacked his shoulder. “Ow! Fuck.” He groaned, running his hand over it to roughly massage it.

“Crybaby.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Jesus someone shit in your cheerios didn’t they?” He grumbled, rolling his arm in a wide circle with his arm bent at the elbow.

“I meant like in the time we’ve been together. Have you been to a sex shop? Lauren’s husband swears he saw you at one.” You accused, watching him closely for any telling body language.

“Yeah I did.” He nodded, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Am I not allowed to buy stuff for our sweet love makin’?”

“What’d you buy? I haven’t seen anything new.” You asked, ignoring his ill-placed tease.

“Some lube, jewelry for my dick piercing. S’got a little vibrate-y thingy.” He gestured to his crotch.

“That’s it?” You asked, still uncertain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was a surprise! Gods what’s your deal baby?” He asked, getting up, steadying himself with a hand on your head before he walked off to his bedroom. You tracked his movements without following. Glancing down at the floor you did a double take.

“See look? Here.” He came back, holding up the two items and shaking them. The jewelry hadn’t even been taken out of the package yet.

“Did you get new socks?” You asked, looking from his feet to his face and back again.

“What are you the fucking FBI now?” He scoffed, obviously getting agitated at your insistence on questioning him. “Yeah they’re new. Would you like to see my receipt officer?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” You scowled.

“You don’t like my- oh, you know what?” Anakin stomped back over to you and grabbed you roughly by the jaw. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated by a bitch half my size.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You gasped, pushing his hand away. He’d never acted like that with you before, it was startling, confusing… could one pill have really made that big of a personality change so quickly?

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bit of a dick don’t you think?” He asked, staring you down as he pointed at your chest, poking you aggressively as he toward over where you sat on the couch. “You planned a trip without me, didn’t tell me until you were getting ready to leave. You’re gone all weekend, you’ve been back a few days and haven’t even spoken to me and then you show up to my place and start questioning me like I’ve done something wrong!”

“What about you huh?” Anakin yelled, getting upset in a way you’d never seen him do before. “I think I should be the one asking you questions!”

“Ani! Ani calm down it’s okay!” Frantically you tried to calm him down, standing up and putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry Anakin I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately and that’s no fault of yours.”

“Damn right it’s not.” He muttered. Walking the room in a quick back and forth line.

He breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he dropped both hands down to his sides and sat down on the couch. Leaning over with his head between his knees as if he felt nauseous.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin sighed, clearing his throat, clasping his hands together behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. “I’m really sorry princess. That was uncalled for.”

“Anakin, let’s just take a second okay?” You said quietly, making your way to the fridge to grab yourself a water. By the time you unscrewed the cap, Anakin had already chugged the rest of his beer.

“Can we… how about we just forget it? Let’s just pretend I got home today.” You suggested, a hopeful look on your face, your plan having been so horribly thrown askew that you knew there was no salvaging it.

“We can start over.” You suggested quietly. es, you were terribly upset with him but it was **so hard to stay that way. Especially when he had every right to be angry right back at you. “I’m sorry too. Please? Let me make it right…”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It should be me.” Anakin whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

“You gotta know that I love you princess. I love you so, so, so much.” He led you back to the couch, holding your hand and pulling you into his lap. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, never. I know that you’re disappointed in me…”

He looked up at you with glacier blue eyes, ones that had started to melt. Salty tears filling up to the brim and ready to flow over in a hot trail down his cheeks. He was holding his breath like he was scared to breathe, like he was afraid that if he did, he’d be pushed over the edge.

“I made a really bad choice and I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice small and fragile. “It was wrong of me. I know that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You frowned, carding your fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, it was just this once right? Only the one pill?”

“That’s not…” Anakin sniffled, hiccuping before he tilted his head back on the couch cushions,covering his face with his hands. He let out a few half-sobs, stopping himself by forcing them down and holding his breath. “I don’t, I didn’t mean to do it okay?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He spoke through short, shallow inhales, his head jerking with each labored breath. “It’s bad. I’m bad.”

“Anakin no, no you’re not bad! Why would you say that?” You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But it- I never should’ve… I shouldn’t have done it.” Anakin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He started to bounce the knee you weren’t sitting on, pressing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes and using his other fist to rhythmically pound on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I never will. You’re too good. You’re so good.”

His voice was squeaky, chopped up and uneven. The large, strong hands you’d come to love settled on your hips and waist, squeezing slowly, rubbing up and down as if he were trying to comfort you.

“C’mere.” He hiccuped, keeping his eyes closed as he wiped his cheek on his shoulder, pulling you flush to his chest. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better. I swear.” He whispered, his words hot and breathy against your skin as he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Anakin I’m not… I’m not leaving you over something so, well I don’t want to call it insignificant. Because it’s not, it’s serious.” You said calmly, your own tears threatening to break through. It was so difficult to see him so upset, it was clear he felt immense guilt for this. “But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’ll be just fine.”

“You won’t go?” He sniffled, squeezing you tighter. “You promise?”

“Course I promise.” You nodded, the guilt of your previous thoughts, your original plan for coming here, all the things you’ve done… it all came rushing to the forefront.

“Why don’t you take a shower, it’ll help you feel better.” You suggested, really only wanting a few minutes of peace to sulk alone. “Just shout if you need help.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my ass.” He snorted, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking in a stuttered breath.

“I don’t know Ani, you’re really wobbly.” You said sympathetically.

“You can shower with me as much as you want, but you will not be showering me.” He glared at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Sponge baths are the only exception.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was always able to lift the weight of heavy emotion off of any situation, with just a few words.

Anakin just smiled and ruffled up your hair before trudging off to the bathroom. You’d never seen him switch up emotions that quickly and so fiercely. His guilt ridden sadness was so intense you feared he may have went into a full fledged panic attack if you hadn’t have been able to de-escalate it fast enough. Then, not too long before that was his flip of the switch anger and aggression.

The moment the bathroom door shut you cleaned up the coffee table, wiping it down to make sure none of the pill powder was left behind. You moved to put away his bong but thought… maybe you deserved a hit after all the trouble you’ve had. So you had one, only one. Someone here needed to be sober and Anakin was obviously not the man for the job.

————————————————————————

“So what do you do there? When that happens?” You asked, pointing to the tv screen while Anakin was playing Fallout 76.

“What? Get rad poisoning?” He asked, sitting comfortably with his feet propped up while you laid your head in his lap. “I can find a doctor, eat some fungus.” He snorted. “But I’d have to find them first so I just use RadAway. This little thingy right there.”

He pointed, showing you what he was talking about, explaining it and the different functions of the Pip-Boy his character uses to track radiation, inventory and the like.

“Okay but you’re wearing a radiation suit right?” You asked confusedly. “So why do you still get poisoned?”

“Baby, it’s just like real life. The suits only withstand so much, plus mines already damaged so it’s not as effective.” He chuckled, looking down at you to play with your hair for a moment while he waited for the next room to load after picking a lock.

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.” You giggled at yourself, enjoying the way he gave you attention even when he was preoccupied.

“So what’s the quest?” You asked, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Uh gotta figure out what happened to this lady and her Order.” He said nonchalantly, “there’s supposed to be some kind of jewelry along the way some where. The Eye of Ra I think?”

“What’s that do?” You asked.

“That’s a great question. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.” Anakin hummed under his breath, practically trashing the room he was in while searching around.

“Y’know, this game is kinda cute.” You grinned, obviously trying to tease him.

“It’s not cute. It’s apocalyptic, how is that cute?” He laughed, looking down at you and tugging your hair playfully.

“It’s all the retro stuff! It’s cute.” You shrugged, pointing to a few different random items on the screen. “I like the music too.”

“I know you do.” He laughed, glancing down again before refocusing on his tasks.

You stayed quiet for a while, just listening to him self-commentate and curse under his breath, it was nice. Normal. The most normal interaction you’d had since before your trip to the cabin. Even after the argument… disagreement? You’d just had, Anakin still made you feel safe and secure, loved and cared for. Even when he was in his own little world, focused on something else, he was still doting on you with soft touches and quick glances of adoration. He was so easy to forgive, he made things easy to forget.

He made it easy to be at ease.

Curled up next to him with a comfy blanket tucked around you, his thigh for a pillow. The warm cedar scent of his soap and the soft scent of his laundry. It was all a big, cozy bundle of security.

While he waited on another load screen, you began drifting to sleep with his hand in your hair and his soft whispers of sweetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a blissful and serene peace lighting up your face; only to turn pale and ashen as your body jolted awake at a familiar tune.

You’d finally placed that song. You’d heard it here, right here.

Part Seventeen

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cordeliawhohung · 7 months

Text

In Limbo [Chapter 2]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

[cw: alcohol]

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you.

wc: 6k

It was always blistering hot in that damn restaurant.

Countless patrons packed tight into booths and tables throughout the building on that busy Saturday night, and the heat that radiated off of them was near suffocating. Sweat clung to every inch of your skin, especially in your armpits, and you had never found yourself secretly so grateful to be dressed in black because at least the evidence was invisible.

Despite your discomfort, you performed your job to the best of your ability, per usual. You weaved between tables as you led your guests to their seats, packaged at least twenty to-go orders, and only got yelled at by the waitstaff once for seating a family of five incorrectly. Really it was no different from any other night you worked. Things were always chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori, which made things stressful, but your pay as a hostess was at least manageable. And they turned a blind eye when your hours started hitting over the fifty mark in a week, whereas most other places would be finding ways to get you to cut back in order to not pay you overtime.

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you.

Except someone was always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when you saw Row strut through the entrance with an obnoxious pirate hat on her head. Your first instinct was to grab one of the menus and hide your face as if it would disguise you among the backdrop of the crowd behind you. Row was much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence, so you continued to stand at your station with only a slight grimace on your face as she approached.

“Ahoy, matey,” she exclaimed, though with only half the enthusiasm you knew she could muster.

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you said.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind you,” Row corrected.

“Right, of course.”

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me the name Sparrow after him,” she continued.

The thing was, Row could go on for ages like that, bickering back and forth with you until one of you got sick of it and complained hard enough that the other was forced to stop. Judging by the excitement that pooled in her eyes and the playful way she kept messing with her cheap pirate hat, you knew she could go all night if she needed to. Instead, you sighed as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring things were still going smoothly behind you before you turned your attention back to Row.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you fiddled with the stack of menus in front of you.

“I’m here to pick you up,” Row responded as if you should have already known the answer.

Just as you opened your mouth to question her further, the answer smacked the back of your head. Halloween. No wonder why she wore that stupid foam hat. Earlier in the week you had agreed to go to John’s club to celebrate the stupid holiday, and then completely forgot about it. Which is why you neared hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Usually you didn’t mind the extra hours, however, if you had remembered you would have been finishing your night off in a packed nightclub during a holiday, well… you would’ve been home attempting to recharge a long time ago.

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Row then asked when your silence started to stretch.

“Uhm, yeah,” you answered as your eyes flickered to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

In reality, no amount of preparation could ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dreaded arriving at the club the entire ride there. You had only been to John’s club one other time previously for Row’s birthday, and that had been more than enough for you. Despite it being years ago, you could still smell the rancid alcohol and feel the bass of the music ripple through your chest as if it would turn your organs into jelly. Everything was too loud, too much, too close.

But this was Row.

So when the two of you stood outside of that hulking building that shook from the inside out, you tried your best not to complain. A deep throb began to gnaw at the soles of your feet from standing for so long, and a tension headache blossomed at your temples, but at least you were offered the solace of entering through the VIP section rather than the main door. Countless people stood outside in line for even the slightest chance of being admitted, which should have made you feel special being allowed through another entrance, but you knew that meant the inside was packed more than work had been.

Except it got worse. Because it always got worse.

You almost didn’t recognize the large figure that stood outside of the VIP entrance, but once those dark eyes landed on you, you knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. That odd, searing feeling that had plagued you the night you went to dinner at the Price’s quickly returned as his gaze meandered back and forth between you and Row. They were soft, inquisitive. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend why you were in a place like that. As if he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that.

“Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted casually.

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually, his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You could still feel his breath tickle your ear as he leaned over your back to guide your hands into place while playing pool. The sound of him was a delicious baritone you were certain would haunt you in your sleep.

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Row teased.

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon responded.

“Shame. Well, Chip and I-” Row continued as she put too much emphasis on your name while she threw her arm around your shoulder, “-are going to get wasted.”

A slight smirk pulled at Simon’s lips and you couldn’t help but shake your head at Row’s triumphant claim. She could get wasted if she wished. You planned on trying to keep your wits about you best as you could in that foreboding place.

“That so?” Simon asked. He said it as if he attempted to challenge your friend, but he still stepped to the side and gestured to the open door behind him all the same. “Cheers.”

There wasn’t any time to glance over your shoulder before Row pressed onward, making sure to drag you along with her. Walking into John’s club was what you imagined walking into hell felt like. Thick, hot air threatened to singe your hair, and you instantly found it hard to breathe. Countless patrons surrounded the entryway, and it appeared that Row wasn’t the only one who felt festive as many of them wore masks, cheap costumes, or on the not-so-rare-occasion, straight lingerie. The cheering and chatting from the dance floor could almost be confused with the screams of the damned, and you found yourself taking deeper breaths than normal in order to supply your brain with enough oxygen to keep going.

“Come on!” Row shouted. Even with her yelling right into your ear it was nearly impossible to hear her over the mess of music that poured through the speakers around you. “Up top! More room!”

Despite the fact you were in the VIP section, it was still incredibly crowded. Whenever you thought of a section like that, you usually figured it would be a bit more sparse than that. Perhaps it was just that night, wild and full of insane antics, that caused the crowd to grow larger than expected, but there was slight reprieve to be found on the second floor. Though the elevation was higher, the air felt fresh as it had fewer bodies to attempt to weave through.

After you and Row got your drinks, the two of you made yourselves at home at a small table on an overhanging balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Surprisingly, it was quieter there than anywhere else, which you realized must have been thanks to the fact you sat behind the speakers for once rather than in front of them. Still, even with the slight break from the usual bustle, you couldn’t help but mess with the straw of your mostly full drink while your foot tapped on the floor.

“Well?” Row asked you expectantly. She said the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it was the first thing that had been said between the two of you since you had sat down. “How have you been? Really? I feel like we weren’t able to talk the other night with all the extra distractions.”

“Oh. Well, you know…” you started, but the words died in your throat.

It was never easy answering a question like that. How were you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you were anything but? All you had done since the dinner at her house was work, and if you weren’t working then you were sleeping with whatever free time you managed to scrounge up. No, the only things worth telling her were the things you couldn’t tell her, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. You had gotten so good at lying, you could almost convince yourself that you were just a very good storyteller.

Almost.

“Just work, mostly,” you excused.

“Oh, come on,” Row groaned. She took a quick sip of her drink (rum, as she made sure to point out) before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you get out? Try to talk to people?”

You nearly laughed at her questioning. Out of anyone in the world, Row should have known about your inability to really keep friends around. After so many years of knowing one another, those questions almost made it seem like the two of you were strangers. Maybe you were, in some way.

“I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine,” you said, attempting a bit of humor.

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invited you somewhere,” Row countered, not as humorous. As if tasting her own venom, she sighed and leaned forward, face softer. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than a little.”

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raised your cup off the table to take a small sip, only to instantly regret it. Your childish, as Row put it, vodka cranberry was about nine parts vodka and one part cranberry juice. For someone who couldn’t afford to drink all that often, it tasted worse than cough medicine on your tongue, and you nearly choked.

“What’s there to worry about?” you asked.

“What isn’t there to worry about?” Row countered. “I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, it seems like you never do anything for you- hell, I don’t even think you’ve managed to score a boyfriend, let alone make it to first-fucking-base.”

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interjected.

“My point is,” Row continued, refusing to listen to whatever petty excuses you tried to muster, “I’m terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.”

It was difficult to believe that a place so full of life could fall so silent, and yet the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, the doctors said. Normal. Typical. Absolutely plaguing. There was nothing you could say in response. Her words stunned you, because unlike usual, she saw right through you. At least she put you out of your misery and continued talking so that you didn’t have to.

“Look, I… know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Row cut herself off with a chuckle and a slight shake of her head. “I know I didn’t know you before everything happened. Hell, you could have always been like this. But it’s concerning all the same. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.”

It must have been the alcohol. Surely. Row never talked about the accident, and neither did you. After all those years, a silent rule had settled between the two of you where you would never speak of it. Not when the anniversary of it came around. Not even when the events plagued your sleep. It was easy to pretend you were quiet about it for Row’s sake rather than your own; but really, you didn’t talk about it because you were certain the guilt would choke you on its way out of your throat.

“It’s not your fault, you know. For surviving,” Row continued.

You swallowed.

“I know,” you lied.

Row raised an eyebrow at you incredulously, and you quickly forced a half smile on your face before she could chastise you for your sloppy deception. Usually you were better at lying, but she had caught you off guard in what you could only assume was quite literally a plea to get your shit together.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you said a bit more truthfully. “That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you. But I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but I’ll… try harder.”

A bittersweet smile crossed her face and you found your eyes adverting to the cup of bitter liquid in your hands in order to avoid the sight of it. She was much too caring for someone who didn’t deserve it.

“Well, good. I know it’s more complicated than I’ll ever be able to understand, but I just want to make sure that you know you’re not alone in this. You’ll always have me, no matter what,” she finished, but the words rolled off of her tongue awkwardly. As if she had expected more of a fight from you.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you after her strange attempt at a confession, yet everything continued to pulse around you. The music that vibrated the very air, the patrons who jumped and danced below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continued. The only thing that had changed was the stale scent in the air.

“Well, what a way to ruin the fun, huh? Alright, enough sappy talk for the night, I promise,” Row chuckled as she adjusted the foam pirate hat on her head. “I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?”

Just like Row had claimed, she spent the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it didn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech was so slurred her words blended into the mess of noise around you, and she could hardly hold herself steady when she brought you over to the pool table for what she promised was going to be a quick game. Her inebriation got so concerning you had all but forgotten your anxiety and discomfort in favor of paying extra close attention to your friend, lest she pass out while standing up.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you had something to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Despite how late into the night it got, the club only seemed to grow more packed by the minute, and you were certain the roof of that place would pop off any moment. Row seemed completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leaned over the pool table and attempted to make her shot. Your pool game had gone on for at least forty minutes; half in part due to Row missing a majority of her shots, and half in part due to her not being able to shut up long enough to focus on hitting anything properly.

“This table needs to stop leaning,” Row muttered.

“It’s not leaning, you’re just drunk,” you corrected.

“I know that,” she whined. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s leaning.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes at her just as she flubbed up another shot. She straightened herself up and attempted to adjust her crooked pirate hat, only to make it worse, though, she didn’t seem to mind all that much as a grin crossed her lips.

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers, huh?” she teased.

There was something in the tone of her voice that sent a jolt through your body, and that familiar, yet confusing, heat coursed through your body again. Your skin recalled the way Simon felt against you, how his hands so carefully guided yours, how his voice rattled your eardrum so deliciously…

“He seems busy with work,” you excused.

Row’s grin quickly melted into something else at your comment. It wasn’t quite malicious, yet there was something off about it. Like she knew something you didn’t.

“Shame,” she quipped. “The two of you seemed awfully comfy the other night.”

Of course she would bring that up. Really, you had tried to forget about that event the entire week, but to no avail. No matter how much you distracted yourself, your mind would always wander back to his words and his warmth. The odd thing was, there wasn’t even anything lustful about it. It had just been the first time a man had touched you and hadn’t made your skin crawl.

“He was just being helpful,” you claimed.

“You know, you should just date him,” Row said, ignoring your comment.

For a moment, all you could do was stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurred. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Bit of an arse but I think you two get on well.”

“Row, I don’t think that’s-”

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments look like they’re falling apart at the seams, you’re gonna get fucking robbed one of these days.”

“Really, it’s-”

“He also seems to be having a much better time following us around now that you’re here. He never seems this interested when it’s just me.”

Ice formed in your veins at her comment, and you found yourself standing there dumbfounded. Following us around? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attempt to look around for him, you were stunned and in too much disbelief to even process it that far. As for Row, her words seemed to have the exact effect she had hoped for, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her grin from you.

“What? You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” she teased as she gestured to the area behind you.

It was only then that you braved a glance over your shoulder, and you felt your throat grow dry at the sight of Simon. He sat at one of the small round tables in a chair that obviously didn’t fit him right. Long legs stretched out to the side in order to accommodate his height, and he slouched back something fierce as if he attempted to make himself appear smaller. Luckily his attention seemed to be absorbed by his phone, which casted a dull glow on his face. You weren’t sure you could handle it if you looked back at him just to find him already staring.

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here, since things can get a little crazy sometimes,” Row explained. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.”

Things only got worse after that. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to him, her drinking. Her words and insinuations made your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you allowed in your system, and your only saving grace was that John crawled out of his office half past midnight in order to wrangle her in. It was impossible to talk sense into her, it seemed. You watched awkwardly from the sidelines as John steadied your friend by her hips, trying to keep her from swaying too much. All Row could do was giggle as she pulled at John’s shirt in an attempt to kiss him. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gathered too much attention with the scene she caused, but you still found your eyes flickering around the area as if danger lurked just beyond where the light could reach.

Though you got severe secondhand embarrassment from it all, there was something a little endearing about it all. John’s patience with her was unmatched, and you found him grinning at her more often than he chastised her. They acted as if they were the only two people in the entire building, and you wondered what that must have felt like. To not be so on edge that you felt and saw everything at once. To be so carefree that not even the hellish cheers coming from below could distract them from one another.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

You hadn’t even realized Simon had approached you until his fingertips rested on the wood of the pool table in front of you. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to him, but you tried not to stare too long, lest he read every thought hiding in your mind.

“Huh?” you asked; not because you hadn’t heard him, but because you were somewhat perplexed by his offer.

“Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time,” he chuckled.

Everything in you screamed no. Despite his apparent kindness to you and Rows - inebriated - trust in him, you still didn’t exactly know Simon. All he really was to you was a stranger. A kind one, but something unknown all the same, and following a stranger outside always seemed like a bad idea. Still, the air in that building had suffocated you since the very moment you stepped inside, and maybe you were a little too grateful to have an excuse to leave for a little while.

Toward the back area of the VIP section, there was a heavy door that led out to a terrace that overlooked part of the alleyway and the street below. Plenty of people still mingled about, though they appeared much more laid back than the people inside. Cold autumn air chilled your feverish skin as Simon guided you underneath a canopy of lights that hung above your heads and towards a thick metal railing.

The cold iron felt nice in the palm of your hands, and it was only then that you realized how exhausted you were. Over ten hours of your day had been spent at work, slaving away on your feet, and instead of being able to pass out once you got home, you had been stuck at that cursed club. Of course you adored Row, and you would do anything for her, but going through all that work and effort just to watch her get wasted wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a night well spent.

“You smoke?” Simon asked as he shuffled his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

You watched him carefully as he took out a pack of smokes and started beating the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Little hints of the tattoo’s that covered his arms poked out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and you tried your best not to stare.

“No,” you replied while you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Good,” he hummed. “Don’t start.”

It didn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it surprisingly wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be, and he was kind in the way he ensured to blow the smoke well out of your way.

“So, what’re you dressed up as?” he asked.

You chuckled at his question and stared down at your work uniform. It wasn’t anything special. Just a plain black dress shirt along with matching pants. Black was always the color of choice in the serving industry. It was easier to hide stains that way, be it from food or sweat.

“Oh uh, a Sapori hostess,” you replied humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.”

He hummed again. “Sapori. Heard that place is pretty fancy.”

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concurred.

“They pay well?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not great.”

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.”

A sharp breath of air sounded from Simon as he inhaled another long draw from his cigarette, and it was only then that you realized that was probably the longest conversation that you had with someone that wasn’t either Row or someone from work. Not even Marco could force a conversation out of you for that long. It was odd. Foreign. Yet you didn’t want it to end. It was difficult to explain, but talking to Simon came natural, even with the insane heat he sparked inside of you.

“What about you?” you asked. “I know you work for John, but what do you do for him?”

“Security, mostly. And whatever odd jobs he assigns,” Simon answered. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I imagine.”

“Yeah, though I usually am off by midnight most nights.” You laughed as you answered his question, and you weren’t quite sure why. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.”

“Row?” Simon repeated. “What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?”

“I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards,” you laughed.

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckled. There was another pause in the conversation as Simon finished off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it onto the cement at his feet and stomping out the embers. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, only for your lips to instantly seal shut. Really, the story of your nickname was probably more embarrassing than Row’s, or maybe it only felt that way because it was tied to you. Like every little thing about you was pathetic and something to be hidden.

“A while back, Row’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken just a little bit on the rim. I was too… I don’t know, nervous I guess, to ask for another cup so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Row found out she laughed so hard and said it was like that little teacup from Beauty and the Beast, Chip. She’s called me that ever since.”

A quiet hum escaped Simon as he fully turned to face you. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he was able to give you his complete and undivided attention. The way he looked at you was strange, and you weren’t sure what to make of the odd churning in your stomach. It wasn’t sickening, nor skin crawling, but it made your insides feel as if they were on fire.

“Cute,” he commented.

“Riley!”

Both you and Simon turned at the calling of his name, and it didn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marched out onto the terrace with Row stumbling behind him. She had somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she threw her arms around you the moment you were within reach.

“I missed you,” she slurred, rum heavy on her breath.

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you laughed.

“Too long.”

“Riley,” John repeated again, ignoring his wife’s antics, “would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home alone when she’s this drunk. Take the car, since I’m sure you probably took your bike here, yeah?”

The man fished a set of keys out of his pocket before handing them to Simon, who shook them around a bit as if he liked the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take care of ‘em.”

Getting Row into her car proved to be a difficult task, though it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching Simon struggle into his seat. The poor man proved to be significantly taller than Row was, and he managed to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car. After some quiet cursing from him, and merciless giggles from Row, he managed to move the seat back far enough that he wasn’t completely scrunched over, and he took off once he ensured both you and Row were buckled in the back seat.

“This is what you get for being so tall,” Row teased. “I mean, really. There is no reason for anyone to be that tall.”

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorted.

“Yeah, but he puts his inches somewhere more important than height,” she muttered, just low enough for only you to hear.

By the time you had pulled into the driveway, Row had managed to sober up, but only slightly. Still, Simon made sure to step out of the driver's seat and walk around to the back side of the car in order to help her out. Once she was steady on her own feet, Row turned around to look at you, where she pointed her finger at you as if in warning.

“Stay,” she ordered.

Confused, you glanced at Simon awkwardly before looking back at her. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Once you gave your confirmation, she slammed the door shut behind her and allowed Simon to lead her inside of the house. It only took her about three failed attempts to get the keys in the lock so that they could enter the dark and quiet house. Simon was going to leave then, as she had gotten into the house plenty fine. He knew that Row was more than capable of taking care of herself for the night, despite her state, but before he could even turn around, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

“Chip,” she spoke, “I want you to keep an eye on her.”

Dumbfounded, Simon raised a brow as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Of course.”

“I don’t just mean tonight,” Row corrected. “I mean, even after tonight. Every day or so if you can manage it.”

Now, that request truly did confuse him. He had only met you two times, and you seemed plenty capable of taking care of yourself. You were a grown woman, after all, yet Row attempted to make it seem like you were some helpless creature. Then again, he had only met you two times; there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about you, and Row wasn’t one to be overly dramatic. If there was something about you that worried her, it was worth at least hearing her out.

“She alright?” he questioned.

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Row sighed. She rubbed at her eyes as if she could remove the drunken haze that clogged her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just… feel a lot better if you were able to look out for her.”

Keeping an eye on what was essentially his boss’s wife’s sister wasn’t exactly how Simon imagined spending his time, but you seemed like a nice enough girl. Nodding his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced behind his shoulder at the car you sat in. After all, there were only two things Simon Riley was good at doing; fighting, and protecting.

“Consider it done.”

Once Simon was done dropping Row off, his next objective was ensuring you got home. The drive to your apartment was much quieter than you had expected, but with it nearing two in the morning you were too tired to say anything coherent. Simon seemed to read this, and instead turned up the volume on whatever radio station Row had been listening to when she picked you up from work.

You must have nodded off during the drive, because the next thing you knew, your door opened up and Simon stood with his hand stretched out for you to take. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you took his hand and allowed him to help you out of your seat before you started digging through your uniform for your keys.

“Thank you for the ride, Simon,” you said once you had them in hand.

“No problem,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. It wasn’t until he glanced at the old, somewhat dilapidating, building that you realized he intended to walk you to your door, just like he had done with Row. “Which floor do you live on?”

Each step that you took up to the third floor was grueling, and you would have taken the lift had it not been out of order for the last two months. Your feet throbbed with every movement, and by the time you made it to your door you were ready to pass out. Your keys slid into the lock with ease, and with a simple turn of the knob the door swung open to reveal your studio apartment. A few dim lamps were the only light source for the area, but it was more than enough for you to function in to get ready for bed.

As you turned to face Simon, ready to dismiss him so you could get some well earned sleep, you noticed his attention had been drawn to your door. Everything in that building was near ancient, but your door and windows were probably the worst. Peeling paint, and rusting brass plagued the door, but he seemed more interested in the plating on the frame.

“Find something interesting?” you questioned.

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he muttered in response. His fingers brushed against the old metal plating, and his nails scraped at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?”

You shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.”

There were a million words that flooded into your mind on why he didn’t need to do that, and you were certain they would have left your mouth had you not been so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his words, all you could do was yawn as you glanced towards your bed, which had been shoved into the far corner of the room. You were about ready to pass out in the spot you stood in.

“Get some rest, yeah?” he prompted as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

You turned to face him with a smile, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. The light of the hallway casted a dark shadow on his face, and yet his look of quiet concern still appeared so soft. A small smile graced your lips before you were able to stop it, and you gave him a curt nod.

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you said, voice nearly at a whisper.

Even though he was a tall and intimidating man, you did not feel the least bit of fear as you watched him stand in your doorway. Any other time, you most likely would have felt trapped if a large man blocked you from exiting your home, yet there was nothing insidious about Simon. Especially not the small smile that managed to tug at his lips as he began to shut the door.

“Sweet dreams, love.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

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